We are all dealing with it together
sitting on these chairs side by side.
Therapeutic Counselling; it's that  general  motion
that  lonesome melancholy
Grieving people flocking together
likened to  the  Vietnamese phrase
'Same same, but different'
And every now and then,
Someone, quiet and
unassuming will
whisper words
That strikes
a chord
In your
heart

We're no longer playing those
single notes on repeat
Blame, pain, hurt and defeat
It resonates so deeply
A whole symphony erupts
In your lost thoughts

Dvořák final moments,
Notes cascading down your face.
Eyes wild, eager and hungry for more
tears, mingled with a melody of vulnerability of the human race

Beethoven Fidelio- an operatic shuddering possession. Body breaking, mind
astrewn. Rhythm of rapidly
crushing sanity

Tchaikovsky's Sixth
white keys masquerading as happiness overlaying the sound of
sombre black keys striking suffering
and grief and everything else  in-between in the greying colours of your mind.

Music of your
stricken heart lost in
the underground,
In these chairs next to you

Woman who also grieves
With a warm embrace around your body
Our wet shoulders
Absorbing the sounds of your dying souls
Until we're playing a single courageous lullaby once more
Heal heal heal
And heal we shall

I live now in a small garage
at times still half again too big.
It's not your style, a bit unkempt;
perhaps a bit too much like me.

Clean dishes jumbled by the sink,
not neatly stacked and filed away.
The desk astrewn with books and bills;
clothes all ****-heaped by the bed.

Makes sense, for I'm the one who left
to you the well-maintained facade
of stockade fence and painted trim
which most would call a happy home.

I left you ten thousand things,
careful not to take too much; but
find myself amazed by all
that moved in which I did not pack.

The touch of legs upon my lap
I found while sitting on the couch.
Your smile was wrapped in Sunday's Times
and wedged in with the bowls and cups.

Your hair blows up against my arm
as I drive with the window down,
and hear you sound asleep beside
me as the droning motor runs.

When our paths crossed tonight, we spoke
a moment, went our separate ways.
Walking past the shut-down shops,
I thought of how we fell apart

and everything that came with me
that I took pains not to include
and smiled to myself, wondering
what I had left for you to find.