The main line of this poem came to me on my way home. |
I come home again from another empty day, Unfulfilled, unchanged from what I was Dissatisfied with life, again I go to bed And wrap myself around the absence of my heart. My soul within me weeps A thousand tears it cries, and rivers flow Of griefs too great to tell And yet my human eye sheds not a tear. When I grow quiet, listening, And seek to hear the rushing of my blood, No sound reaches my ears And no pulse pounds. The pain within is all I have, heated gnawing at my chest As if the void where innards lay Were Hell, no more, no less, And pus and lava filled my emptiness. Inside I scream my rage away, And sorrow, too, receives respite; A moment, only, does it last Before the grief comes pouring back. My Love, my Love, where have you gone, Although I never knew you, Except, perhaps, in moments passed, In squandered moments when my heart awoke. Time passes on, and you remain As far as ever from me, And though we’ve met, perhaps, I find Your face eludes my mind. I stand beneath the twirling stars Embrace of night enfolds me, and the sky Comes flaming down as my hope dies. I smile to know Heaven itself can feel as I. Another end, another empty day, Another night spent curled upon myself If only I could disappear, leave naught upon the bed But tangled sheets, and one last thought: Regret, for love I’ve always/never known. |