Her perfumed essence
  still fragrances the air
         in her absence

Life thawed

  mid temperate

      ice crystals

  'neath throe's

    reckoned awakening,

spring enveloped

     dragonflies

its wings tattooed

    'pon nature,

the lake reflected

a softer side

  contemplating

    a gentler zephyr,

condensation filled

  the atmosphere, her

   clear tears saturating

    resurrected skies,

vapors misting on

   the horizon

  amidst forgiveness

     of flawed sunrises

Poetry
Became the voice
Of things
that could never
be spoken

Poetry
Gave reason
To what is
unfathomable
and unimaginable

Poetry
Fueled the desire
to incorporate love
Into the world
of literature

Poetry
Told stories
Of thoughts
That only
speak of love

But
It is also because
of poetry
How she came
to understand
What is suffering
*and how sorrow feels like

She wanted some
Me time,
Which didn't include
Me time.

I know nothing about
The semblances of affection,
Or the pretension of passion;
I only know one kind of love:
The one I can't part from,
I really cannot, I really don't not.
I suffer ultra extreme separation anxiety.
No psychotic weird stuff.
We don't want to be apart,
But we do, for years at times.
I'm not a simpering wimp,
Or a wimpering simp.
This love lasts a lifetime,
A sane lifetime.
It makes me want to live.
I'll succumb to prayer and hope,
Whatever to never have it end.
     (I do mean never)
One love shouldn't have to subscribe
To the same cruel rules as everything
     (I do mean everything)
Else.
Something serious is askew
When one love leaves and love
Lives on in the other.
Our love lived once,
But died twice.