How is it that I long for something I already possess?

I feel an orphan, though I lack not
my emotions feel imposter

like those of true loss,
my heart aches for more than a shadow
moreover, I carry the guilt of this pang
with knowledge of those who carry authentic sorrow

I ask the question.
Is bruised fruit better than nil?
Is bread, molded and crumby, better than none at all?

I know you love me, but do you enjoy me?
obligation does not breed true affection.
dutiful acceptance falls short
I long for a genuine, tangible love

It didn't seem real
It was like he had only gone fishing
Of course, that was only a dismal hope
a faint glimmer of me wishing

I'll miss him dearly
Won't get to see him biyearly
playing games - cards and such
golf, euchre, slapjack, and sequence

No more am I able to hug his round belly
or give a kiss on his sandpaper cheeks
But no more will he ache or shake
Oh, what a glorious day!

My heart hurts for my grandmother's loss
The house feels empty without his jolly, old laugh
But there we left her,
playing a lonely game of solitaire

Yet, his memory lives on through me
I can tell of his love for our country
Eagles, flags, and family
These were his pride and joy

I loved him so much
I really did
But I can live in peace
Knowing he's waiting for me
with Jesus

The house seems still, quiet, empty.
Dawn breaks and her feet hit the cold wooden floor.
The aroma of coffee swirls through the air, meeting the cool breeze,
while the birds are singing the song of a new day.

Morning presses on.
Discontentment creeps in slyly through the door.
There's always some chore that finds itself unavoidable.
She mustn't sit in solemn despair.

Flipping through the channels over and over.
Dusting the shelves time and again.
Reading, writing, baking.
None the cure for the unrest of a widow.

Lunch prepared for two, but present, only one.
Picking and nibbling, but nothing seems to satisfy.
She starts the dishes to pass the time.
Bubbles forming, suds splashing.

She can't resist.
There's no escape.
Her mind lands on his precious reminiscence.
As melancholy as it seems, she knows there is hope to be found.

Still, the afternoon seems to have no end.
She finds herself aimlessly wandering.
Memories resurface with every glance.
Shutting her eyes seems to be no help.

She finds her day drawing to a close.
Her heart impossible to mend.
For she cannot be whole without her other half.
This is the burden she unwillingly carries.

A lonely game of solitaire awaits.
Companionship long over due.
Nothing seems to fill the void.
But life beats on.

She awoke dull and dismal
The clouds mirrored her emotions
The day was hers
but he'd come and ****** it away

Of that, she was sure.

Mustering an energy she didn't have,
she willed herself out of her bed
to leave the comfort of hiding

She doesn't bother with the shades
Sunshine was a stranger to her heart, anyway.

Neglecting the normality of a morn'ng routine
She threw on a sweater to warm her cold soul
and poured her coffee - black - to match.

Ambition does not belong
in the dictionary of her life
Life? Hardly.
She is the walking antonym of motivated

But there is a place
where she feels alive

In a damp, dark, ***** basement
filled with bats, wheels, earth, and glaze.

Wasting the gray day away,
taking refuge in the arts

Wedging, centering, shaping, stop.
Trimming, firing, glazing, stop.
Lost in the process,
lost in her thoughts.

She can breathe again.
She rises to the battle.

He will not win.

Passing, leaving
Coming, going
The ebb and flow of knowing
is full of feeling.

Comparably, vulnerability brings
harder falls
but higher peaks
I am no gambler.

Magnet to me.
Never leave.
Irreversibly, your lover.
Permanently wed.

Hold me, hold me...

Exit stage left.
And you never come back.

Locked inside,
lonely, but void of all other feeling--
a novacain heart.
Susceptible to sentiment, no longer.

How do you love when love always leaves?





I don't know how