Sixteen Thoughts that came After

XXXI Days of Poetry - Day the Twenty-second

  

Sixteen Thoughts that came After 

I
You are not around now. 
You are....gone from me, 
Fled to another, to yourself, 
I don't know where all you are, 
But you are not here with me as 
You should be, as you used to be, 
As I thought you always would be.



II
When you care enough to hate me, 
at least you still care about me. 
It is your indifference, which you 
call peaceful acceptance, that is 
my slow death and endless torment. 



III
You had responsibility 
for my heart, and you 
did not take good care of it



IV
I dream of what can never be
I ache for what is lost
I yearn to come and take you
No matter what the cost



V
You were 
ever the 
reason to 
keep chasing 
over the mountain.



VI
You see she's miserable without you; 
then you realize she'd rather be that 
miserable than be with you, and you 
realize just how awful you must be.



VII
If it hadn't been me, 
would it have been 
someone else? Was your 
life a ticking time-bomb 
that was ready to go off? 
Or was I a once in a 
lifetime storm hitting 
your shores, destined to 
drag you under no matter 
how safe and secure you 
thought your house was?



VIII
Remember when 
you used to 
love me? Why 
didn't I savor it?



IX
I want to tell her about Alice 
and bucket-head Kevin, but I 
guess that time is gone now.




X
Memories linger in 
my bones, unwilling 
to be forgotten.



XI
There is not a minute spent 
in your presence that I take 
for granted. Not an hour away 
from you that I wouldn't trade 
for another minute with you



XII
I 
 haven't 
      felt 
          you 
             this 
                   far 
                         away 
                             from
                                 me 
in such a long while



XIII
Doesn't matter any more 
Maybe it never did;
But I know what I know, 
and I know what you hid



XIV
The Longing, 
The Hunger for you
Does not abate. 
My hands on your body;
Passion and Fate



XV
The curse of you, now 
that you're gone, isn't 
the pain, and isn't even 
the darkness, but the 
revelation of in how much 
pain and darkness I already lived.



XVI
The fire in the cave 
still burns bright and warm, 
and the shadows await your return.












XXXI Days of Poetry (2016)


Read more Poetry, including previous year's "31 Days"





[ART - Top: "Throes of Creation" by Leonid Pasternak (1862–1945)]

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