A Waking Reality

Pristine hours of morn-
they mock,
ridicule
even scorn.
For in their bosom
I am seduced by the beast: untruism.
Beguiling me til scattered by waking hours blinding realism.
Alone do I lie
crying outside.
Alone do I lie
dying inside.
For besides her, I have come to see
there is no other to deliver me
from drowning in this sea of misery
flooding forth, my bleeding heart.
Repeatedly
I recollect her silhouette in every part.
Over and over an attempt is made
to silently quote
the words she revealed in personal letters and private notes
but they only get muddled in a willing yet unable throat.
Her portraiture still endures to the right/center of my mirror.
SHHHhhhhhhhh.....
listen....
you can hear her voice
every now and again
in the faint yet distinct whistling of the autumn wind,
blowing gently through the trees
ever so slightly rustling the leaves.
It's so hard to believe we're not together.
The promises we made,
I thought they'd last forever.
All the time we spent,
all the places we went,
was it all in vain?!
Destined to end in ruin!?
Am I destined to repeat these scenes in my
memories again
and again?
From our last moments together stretched til 'morrow.
I sit, like swine, wallowing in sorrow.
Back to the time of when we first met.
Dumbfounded as I,
unable to express my sincere regret.
I sit cyphering the days as they fade by.
I sit querying myself that infinitely unresolvable question...
'WHY?'
Often for solace, I take to the sky.
Looking to be lifted up by
the Creators aerial works of wonder,
or to have her voice drowned out by thunder.
To be freed from this stench of pain,
cleansed by the seminal rain.
Alas,
I am unequipped
maybe incapable
of eluding her grasp;
inescapable.
For,
in the day breaking til dawn.
in the horizon- serene, regal.
in the countless stars finely sprinkled across nights vast curtain of darkness
drawn closed over space...
even in these do I descry the noble splendor of her face.