Our love is over,

however, never forget --


that it has been real.

There was blood on my hands
but it wasn't mine
even if I wish that were the case for that moment
I couldn't risk it
the choice was to **** or be killed
my palms were oozing with the color red
my adrenaline was racing in loops
the man that I killed was considered my enemy
but in the eyes of my enemies on the other side
he was known as man with a purpose
a dream that he wanted to fulfill
he wanted to become a singer
to be the main lead in his church choir
singing chants of the holy name till dawn
but ever since the war
he had to put his dream on hold
now he had to sing for a new revolution

With the sound of the trigger
I caused his dream to be silenced forever
but it's not like I wanted to do that
It was either me or him
I drop my gun onto the ground and run towards him
his body was cold like ice
but his eyes were still shimmering
his head was looking straight at the heavens
I cradle his head gentle
whispering my sincere apologies in his ear
my comrades reach to where I am
asking me if I was okay numerous of times
but I was too ashamed to speak
I bury my head onto his chest
hoping that I can find a heartbeat
but it was too late to check
he is now singing with the angels

After the war has finally passed
I walk across death beds of the fallen
I put flowers on each of their graves
until I reached to his
I put my hand on his tombstone
my hands are now forever dry
but the memory still aches between my fingertips

A seraphic grand piano, besmirched with blood and fervent,
Scattered across old alabaster keys, Ichor stains scores of parchment.

Stewed passion runs wildly across the docile tempo,
Mellifluous effervescence lingers in the gored vestiges of a crescendo.

Memories of artistic vigour shrivel and regress,
Our blissful felicity of mellifluence, slaughtered by organic evanesce.

The thought I meant to write
was lovely and serene, but gone
before I found the words to make it stay.

Perhaps it had the wrong address, was meant
for someone else and fled, embarrassed to be seen
instead by me;

Or maybe it was floating free
And somehow blundered into me
But barely made a dent and didn’t stay;

Or it could have been a wayward dream
Stranded on this side of sleep
Waiting for the night to slip away;

Most likely just a thought of mine,
But one I couldn’t grasp in time,
And remember as the thought that got away.

I stare at the wall, the mustard dye,
Think myself in a room
Where all I can do is try.
To escape the fear, the pain the cries
How do I tell my past self
That it was all a lie.

In my dreams comes she,
She ,who was free
She ,who was kind
She, who loved the world
More than her life.

Her touch was gentle
As she brushed my hair
Saying it's fine
Even if it's not fair.

She seemed she wanted to whisper
It was never a lie
She never watched the world with rose coloured eyes
It was me who never understood the price
Of the people who cared who held me high.
Even if they are not here it doesn't matter
What they gave us will never be a lie.

I never really noticed you for the simple fact that
That men grab at me all the time, when you do I
Thought you were one of them but…..I felt the
Love in your touch….. turn around and see you with your
Darkly and dangerous good looks  I want ed to talk to you
But I had to finish my dance after that I talked to you … you
Kiss me softly as well as well as your touch I still don’t know
Much about you.   But yet I loved  you being with me
Or love I thought was going to last that was until
You said that we could not I insisted to be with you
That drove you insane, the idea of being with me
Instead of you job
It hurt more than you strangling me
Why this betrayal of me
As I stilled loved you to the last breath

To live in glee
January 31, 1935
Ottawa…..
To rest in peace
October 15, 2024
Ottawa