PARTING IS...

The secret bliss of grief & sorrow...

Nothing this intense could be expected...

Nothing like this was at all expected.

The carpet beneath me isn't as perfect

or green as the grass of last weekend....

The music washes over me & it is almost too much to bear...

The absence of him. The void left by all of them...

The tears refuse to fall quickly. My pain refuses to scream

or call attention to itself with whimpers or gurgles...

I just lie here, wasted, inconsolable.

Razors seem tacky & drugs; just too much fun...

Alcohol has merit as he would surely tell me.

Days pass & eventually a craving to call...

a wanting of him & all that those moments meant to me...

But he had to go & I know this & I don't care... (right!)

So I stand, dressed in black for the funeral procession.

I walk down night time city streets - the clouds ever threatening

to cry for my sake... (arrogant much?)

And there where we frolicked & hardened & fell...

There where the grass is so perfectly green...

I lay down my body, crash through the silence....

Lost in my tears in the womb of our death.