Whenever I think I can reinvent
That I can change, become new
Scab over hurt, invigorate hope
Come the thoughts of you.

It's been so long, years out in the past
It wouldn't have lasted, few things do
Yet thoughts and feelings ever persist
With the thoughts of you.

Whenever I think I can get back in the pool
Swimming long till muscles ache and thrill
I recall the time in your waters, me the fool
With thoughts of you, I choose to step back

Knowing my heart's had it's fill...

Today I drank from a coffee cup
That I used to use when Skyping...
Her.

The Memories came flooding back
Turning the past into today
Erasing the present, sending me to my room
To call Her, as if nothing had ever changed.

But, of course, it had
Which would explain
An un-glanced upon Skype
And these words of un-rhyming verse.

After all the years, and so-called healing
Memories, like daggers, fall into emotive flesh
Reopening former, now unforgotten wounds
To remind that "Tis better to have loved and lost,"
Is just so much bulls**t.

When I'm reading, simple 80's pulp,
Not interacting with the inexplicable,
People and places I do not, cannot get,
Wrapped in a past, I can call my own.

Sensibilities change, subtle and great,
Left behind in the slumber of years,
Awakened to find myself alone, adrift,
With only the fading shores of memory,
Waiting for my craft to sunder and sink.

Connection a dream unreachable,
I pick up a book filled with yore,
Finding myself among friends,
As untouchable as I've become.

Awaiting our ignoble and unnoticed end,
I contentedly sigh, knowing in all the flux,
There's at least one thing we can count on,
That time and tide carry us all to final rest.

She's ever there, giving me pills
Counteracting the harm I inflict
Left to my sickness, inviting vices
Contentedly providing to my ills.

I am conflicted, addicted to the ledge
She draws me back in, back from my sin
Back to center, well away from the edge
Her love taking me, silencing life's din.

Saving me from myself to be part of us
When all she needs is there,  in herself
Life's invite in her name, I'm just a plus
Living or dying contentedly on a shelf.

She wants me around, my lady she does
Her clown, her friend, her lover, her man
Wanting me in the to be, the is, and the was
Wanting me, and why, I'll never understand.

History teaches, preaches pain
Brilliant hesitant beginnings
'Pon familiar field, hand-in-willing hand
Unclasped, re-found ghosting refrain.

Rebound, and try again.

Old school thoughts, like a turned off phone
Time shared, time spared, an understanding,
New and well worn words, natural flow,
Memories of a growing mutual Spring.

Recount and return to Sanctuary.

Five short years till officially 'senior',
Not meaner, but contemplative...,
With far more behind than ahead,
Showing age with a slower way to live.

America voted itself into a future cinder,
Politics into fists, the new Left and Right,
The lonely mingle desperately on Tinder,
From a hammock's view (comfortably askew),
The coming days look contented and bright.

Neither ready to die nor fearful of leaving,
Recounted days, and all the winding roads,
All that led, all that is, all that still could be,
Worry cannot goad, with wonders yet to see.

It isn't you who left, but the one you were
It isn't I left behind, but the I that was
Forced or chosen, divergent paths appear
From ones that were, to those who will be
Who could fail to understand or forgive?

We were then, what we are not now
Their joy and pain, not our own
Their story over, our own just begun
Lessons learnt, tears and old skin shed
On divergent paths, made anew.

Each of us now what we were not
Tomorrow what we are not today
Who you know, whom you care for
Say Good-bye before Hello
Understand, and love them for the day.

We are but chapters in the Book of Others
Others but chapters in our own
Each our own journey from was, to am, to will be
Another’s presence a great and temporary loan
Each gifting a new perspective, a new way to see.  

Allow the You That Was to give thanks
And let the You That Is move on
Heartache is not the result of an ending
But the by-product of expectation.