That Missing Part of Him

Does she know?

Doesn’t she feel it,

That piece of him that has gone missing, again?

Where does it go, where does he take it and who does he give it to?

Does she know?

I know.

It isn’t lost, I have captured it.

I hold that missing part of him.

The part that she is missing.

The part he gives only to me.

The pieces of him that I can’t have are far greater than the one she misses,

but at least I know what to name it.

The Light of a Million Suns

His hands are weightless,

His smile, eternal.

His eyes hold all the stars in the universe, the light of a million suns.

His energy charges every cell in my body and

his love powers and drives my nightly dreams.

When he speaks to me, his words feel like a warm soft blanket

draped with love over my shoulders.

His voice comes to me in the silence of meditation telling me to stop,

to let it all go.

He tells me that good will only come to me after I throw out and reject the darkness.

He watches in silence and sadness as I try but fail over and over…

He knows he can’t do it for me.

I know I can’t do it for myself.
   

Up Close

Who is he?

This man I only know up close.

Does he know me? And if so,

who is this woman, this me he knows?

We have an odd situation, he and I, like a fantasy played out on a stage,

a performance, a curtain call and

then done.

I know the up-close, the heat, the physical

Yet when I see him from a cool distance,

I don’t know him.

He becomes someone else with someone else.

So which is the real him and can he be one without the other?

When I ask him, he hesitates as if to say he doesn’t know what to say or

what I want to hear and so he leaves.

When he goes, what is left?

A space, a place holder, a thought,

another time, another place, a different now?

I know for us there is still only the now.

A now only for us.

But when the physical distance is gone, we two become one but with no future

with or without each other.

It is an isolating togetherness, just ours alone now and forever.

He steps out of his life and I out of mine and together we share a space that

 is comforting, predictable but out of place.

 A place that feels right, until it doesn’t, and I step back into the cool distance of my life.

To a place where I only know this man, up close.

A Story I Tell Myself

A Story I Tell Myself

It is a story I tell myself.

I repeat it over and over until

it becomes my story, my plan, my hope and

for a while, just a little while,

I am able to convince myself that it’s all true.

It sinks in, it makes sense, it’s easy and right.

Yet it remains just a story I tell myself but

Sometimes,

sometimes,

Even he believes it.

Epic Love

Epic Love

An epic love is one we knew in our deepest heart space.

A love that remained in secret, just below the surface and still does.

The one we don’t ever speak of, it’s too painful.

A love where all the signs and signals said “beware”, “stay away”.

We didn’t,

we couldn’t.

It was a Cinderella fantasy come to life.

A love to good to be true and was.

It was the kind of love that will stay in our hearts and at the edge of our minds forever.

It was a love that was never meant to last.

It was too passionate, too intense and raw to maintain forever.

It came into our hearts like an avalanche of emotion, a storm of lust.

And just as violently as it came, it was gone leaving us lost and broken.

But in spite of the pain, it changed us for the better. 

It changed us into women who felt a level of passion and love we will never forget,

could never imagined was possible and one that may never come again.

If we are honest with ourselves, we knew from the beginning that it was a love that was never really ours to keep.

Didn’t we…

Edited 2/8/21 

Posted 2/8/21