They think Absence is a cruel mistress A gorgon with brass talons who rends our bonds And eats our hearts Dousing flames and snuffing out all the candles we lit together
But she is a gentle gardener Sowing seeds of strength with calloused, work-toughened hands Watering desire with the dew of distance Counting day after day until the fruit of reunion is Ripe and sweet and tender.
I cannot ever truly love but Fail. I call out now to silent graves. Prayers cut rivers down my face and I ask them to rise, rise, rise, Spread fragile wings and fly! Lift, like vibrant monarchs against the sky, But the stars are a deaf glory Across a moonless night That cannot speak, And these tears they only fall, Dropping heavy and useless to the floor.
I am bleeding from the very tributaries of my soul,
Cry these words out into the stillness of the room,
And I thought you might hear.
I hold your picture to the beating of my heart But there is only silence And the endless, imperceptible wall.
You are just too far, too far, too far.
I am an utter failure; Calling out to ghosts who were Never there at all.