Love, oh my love,
you left me defenseless;
no gods above,
no miracle on Christmas.
.
Memories of you
slip through my fingers:
they leave me too;
melancholy lingers.
The protective veil
I weaved from our past
threatens to fail,
flags at half-mast.
Transparent and frail
like a plastic bag;
a soundless wail,
a threadbare rag.
.
My anemic hope,
my castle of denial -
a thinning rope,
dusk to a sundial.
.
And there are days when I surface
- gasp for air and scour for land -
till the waves pull me in the blackness,
back to the despair I understand.
.
And you won't read this one,
this one will stay
at the bottom of an ocean,
out of your way.
.