Monday, April 14, 2014

Under the Sky

The sky
Was black,
Not the least bit shrouded,
By the hazy mist
That enveloped us that morning.

The air
Was clear,
Beautifully enchanting us
With the scent of roses
That were blooming that spring.

Everything was crystal,
It was singular,
Everything could be described
In "is" and adjectives - 
No need for adverbs
That confused the mind too much.


The sky
Was black,
Dark - 
An obsidian jewel
Flattened into a blanket
That hugged the world.

But for us, that night,
It hugged us.
It was for us - 
Everything was.

The darkness,
In all its handsome loneliness,
Is enchanting beyond compare.
That something could exist so absolutely,
So surely,
Without the aid of anything else - 
no color, no light.
It is almost mythical,
Almost godly.

It happened then,
A spark - 
Its fall - 
So clear
That it cut through
The absolute darkness.

A star
It was.
A miracle
It is.
A falling star
That told the story
Of a brightness,
Falling brightly,
Ending still in

A light may fall,
But it does not stop,
Being a light.

You are that to me - 
My star,
My brightness,
My light,
And more.

You are my breath,
My water,
My good,
My bad - 
Because you are
My vice.

You give me air,
Yet you can suck it all out of me.
You quench my thirst,
Yet you have all the power in the world to drown me.
You could've.
You could've,
But you didn't.

You didn't.
You didn't.

You now do.

What business did you have,
Leaving me?
What devil possessed you,
To walk away?
What threatened you,
To shed a tear,
Hold my hand,
Say your goodbyes,
And close your eyes?

A light may fall,
But it does not stop,
Being a light.

You were that to me - 
My star,
My brightness,
My light,
And more.

You were my breath,
My water,
My good,
My bad - 
Because you were
My vice.

Why is it
That when a person dies,
All the verbs
Become past?

You loved me.
You cared for me.
You saved me.
You made me.

Fine. Fine. Fine.
For argument's sake,
It should be so
Because you no longer exist - 
no longer exist!
And so there is no future.
There is nothing
You do now - 
It hurts.
This fact bleeds
Of truth and lies.

And for fantasy's sake,
I argue back,
It should not be
Because if you still exist -
For sure you'd love me still
With everything now
And the future - 
It hurts.
This fantasy bleeds
Of truth and lies.


Fine. Fine. Fine.
I concede.
To your facts and sciences
To the unreasonable
Rules of grammar.
You -
And all you are,
All you would have done -
All are now past.


Why? Why? Why?

I cared for you.
I was your husband.
I loved you.

I do care for you!
I am your husband - still!
I love you! - 

Why does this become past?

Is, Was.
Is, Was.
Is, Was.
Is, Was. Is Was. Is, Was.
Iswas. Iswas. Iswas.

You told me
Three was the magical number of my anger.
And yet as I repeat these words - 
three by three,
three by three,
threebythreebythreebythreebythree - 
They destroy me.

Three is no longer the magical number,
Infinity is - 
For that is the number of times,
That I shall remind myself you no longer are here;
For that is the number of times,
I shall call your name in my sleep;
For that is the number of tears,
I shall shed in my sleep;
For that is the number of cuts,
My heart forever shall bleed of.

I complain and I complain.
But in the end I know the answer.

You are my world.
You were my world.

And now that you no longer exist.
My world shall neither.

And when my world no longer is - 
Where shall I be?
That is.
Only there,
That was.

I no longer am.
I no longer care,
Nor love,
Nor breathe,
Nor fare.
(Ironic, I might add,
That this be
the Italian
For that word -

In the end,
I shall succumb to my magical three - 
I know. I know. I know.
Why all things become past.
I hurt.
I lied.
I cared.
I loved.
Because the moment that you ceased to be,
I did too.

There is one thing that I am though - 
Only one.

Without you,
I am nothing.

*Inspired by and dedicated to my sweet baby girl, Blossom. 13 years old at July 18, 2013. Dachshund and Proud. One of the best of nature's creations.

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