A Song of Despair

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: “The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance.”

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved him, and sometimes he loved me too.

On nights like this, I held him in my arms.
I kissed him so many times under the infinite sky.

He loved me, sometimes I loved him.
How could I not have loved his large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don’t have him. To feel that I’ve lost him.

To hear the immense night, more immense without him.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn’t keep him.
The night is full of stars and he is not with me.

That’s all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without him.

As if to bring him near, my eyes search for him.
My heart searches for him and he is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love him, true, but how much I loved him.
My voice searched the wind to touch his ear.

Someone else’s. He will be someone else’s. As he once
belonged to my kisses.
His voice, his light body. His infinite eyes.

I no longer love him, true, but perhaps I love him.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held him in my arms,
my soul is lost without him.

Although this may be the last pain he causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for him.

Artifacts

You drove
Up that mountain road
And you hypnotized me
With your eyes
And the way you sang to me

Do you even know
How you melt me instantly
With that soft smile
And all shades of love
Falling across your face

And when we reached the place
Where the trees break
And give way to the view
You led me out
To drink in the sunset

You may not have known
But as you pulled me close
My shoulders pressed against your chest
I closed my eyes
And promised never to forget

Every moment with you
Is captured in my heart
Held there forever
Treasures tucked away
Priceless artifacts

Fly

She said even birds like me 
have room to spread their wings
in the sky.

Birds like me
that find comfort in the rain.

What an ugly bird I must be.

Darling, she said,
you are as beautiful as death; 

They notice you but
don’t acknowledge you are there.

But you will let them know.
You will let your voice be heard.

And they will have no choice
but to accept you.

Spread your wings—

Fly through the rain;
the sun will greet you.

Now,
fly.

Touched

You have touched every important part of me 

with your words,

with your mouth,

with your soul,

or your hands. 

There is nothing more comforting

or terrifying than that.