Her Lover
There was no moment of silence
No vacant half breathing of poignant momentum
The falling stars could not entice from her heart
Or burden a single second with the simplest ghost of import
The open unwritten pages of her book left devoid of ink-ed
blood
She does not ponder on the swirling fogs
It is those dank and drear mist which contemplate her
Darkest expression of nothing
Cold walled the clammy plaster and armour
Iron shovelled and buried deep
Never to dance all for smiles or walk from the island
marooned
No spark of life but vacant inspiration
No tears other than those wept long ago
Are now her only memories of sorrow
It is cold now
The words of passion and obsession
Sleep with their talk on her tongue
Her life undone
Love she turned her back upon
Love she walked away with uncaring grace
And a high hand haughty wave
With such a fire in her eyes un-kindled
Un-eternal
And shadow he watched her grey spectre
Of no avail his soul travelling with her
There in the gnawing desolation of possibility
She
Left him
And the only word he could conjure
As if mustered from the folding hands of fog
From a broken and wounded silence
And skewed from his burning throat
“how much did I love you and you never even knew; me”