Absent.
Poetry
I feel led right inside
a poison
humming heavy without restraint
a quintessential rotating ache
of culled togetherness ripped apart
leaving my resignation signed
on a rag doll in bits.
Forever looking
at the seconds minutes and hours finishing last
of the lost without you
cursing the brutal wanderer’s cancerous axe
wishing the axe would fall on me
maybe in the next willing rainbow, a genie will drop three wishes
on my panorama of suffering suffices
suffice it to say with gaffer tape
I hang on with my fingertips bleeding
so my biblical tears will not flood the aroma of you
imagining
you are here between the sheets skin on skin
a heartbeat away
I wear your perfume on my sleeve so my heart can live when living is drudgery
so I’ve made a decision
see you at the bus stop marked not with numbers but heaven.
Dedicated to a friend so heartbroken now together with his soulmate.
Thank you so much Soul magazine for giving me the chance to write for such a fab publication.
