The invisible years, they arrive after menopause
You'll see.  It will happen to you in time.
Left behind.  Left alone.
Now I wonder if I am imaginary?
The energy it drains, stepping through the day.
The Demon of loneliness demands attention.
I doubt my existence.  There is no one loving me.
There is no "love."
The cruel Magician of depression begins
disappearing me.
And I no longer care.  
I will crawl off this Earth alone.

Her golden fingers
weave across my
cotton candy hair.

With my eyes closed
I let her kiss my face.
"Drink me in," she says
"for I am fleeting."

I laze as long as I dare
listening to the rituals,
The wave of notes and
flutter of wings around me.

I am the decay. I am the human.
Yet, Spring and her sprites
rejoice.

Cells burst
Telomeres shrink,
Hurtling towards destruction
He called me a misanthrope.
Know thyself, I said.
My life is chaos;
Pink moons and hurricanes
We all fall down
Dead woman walking

All the expectations
All the preparations
Each year that comes
It could have been
Happy daydreams
Reality, I cope
I still long for you
Knowing you as no other
I bring you flowers
My sweet Cate
Three were born.
Two remain.

— "That great abyss that exists between loving and imagining that one loves."   -@Esu Emmanuel


the most hopeful wish we store
in satin-boxed hearts
is the unquenchable bliss
that longing will flourish
into staying, that cravings
will reach beyond passion's
momentary caress nestling
into late latte mornings
where his hand fills the contour
of your safekeeping
& sincerity collects upon
tongues soaking skin
in the stillness
of velveteen rain

Happy Valentine's Day 💕