back from the brink
of blindly falling;
back alone again
in a crowded room
there is no bridge
over troubled waters,
no way to purge
vast oceans
when deep rivers foment
pitch black
swallowed by an insatiable sea
no good shepherd to gather
an abandoned black sheep
cast heedlessly away
from the fold
unbefriended
like a dogless bone
a stain on impeccable sublime
a hopeless wanderer
stalled on the brink
of a threshold lost in time
purge me from your poetry
so I won’t remember
the insatiable ache
of inerasable words
left unsaid
you lured me out
from the cold & darkness
to freeze my heart
in naked light of day
purge me from your poetry
like you spilled me
from your heart;
don’t come back here
to this slippery, lonely edge,
just to bid adieu
as if I didn't notice you were gone
purge me from your poetry
so I can accept without
sorrow's ache so deep;
in unbroken silence
a heart silent atones not pretense,
and yet,
the only lie you whispered was "friend"
November 2016 ... wild is the wind