Blanket: To Love is to Die a Little Too

Stiff jointed, I hobble
Towards the coffee pot
Pouring steaming self doubt
Potent with frustration
Blackened by dark words.

Sometimes you can
Fall out of love with
The love of your life.
This descent,
A slippery slope
Filled with handhold twigs
Along the way,
Can happen gradually,
Almost imperceptibly.
The sun moving across the horizon
Inching so slowly
But ambling
Towards twilight, nevertheless.

Appreciating the depth and quality
Of spirit, a beautiful soul,
You love this person, still
Terribly, terrifically.

But when the roots
Of disparate values stick,
Unwillingly statuesque
Untouchable and stalwart and
Always ever present,
Your heart can sag
And turn away,
A heavy fatigue
Trending towards lukewarm futility.

You come to understand
What you wish you could deny–
That you don’t think you can,
Want or should continue
Because things
Are not working out
And are unlikely to improve,
Particularly when talking
About the issues
Is always best done
At a “later date”
So that in the end,
There’s no time like “never”.

Also, you know your own ability
To bridge dicey emotional subjects
With constructive tact and diplomacy
Is wobbly
So that while wading
Through troubling incidents
You have been wholly unable
To reach across with
Patience and dexterity
Without being overwhelmed
Stymied and
Driven crazy
By rigid stubbornness
To help arrive at
An alternate reality,
If that were ever possible.

Gray winds howl
Rattling fragile
Single paned emotion
Allowing drafts to
Create distance and
To chill hope.

Snow falls flaking,
Melting first, then staying to
Blanket landscape protuberances.

Here, now, a return to a lonelier,
More expressively impoverished life
Whose icy stillness also bespeaks
A harsh beauty,
Unassuming in its stark simplicity
Requiring a different,
More muted survival patience.

Ruthless decision
Crystallizes a blinding glint
Caught and razor cut
By a random sun ray.

With each day passing
Amid roaring silence,
I marvel at how fast
A glass house can crumble,
Shattering years spent
Piecing together quality experience,
Building upon rainbow prisms
So bright and multifaceted
That scattered
Intoxicating Possibilities
Adding glitter to any room
And felt like Forever.

Poof, gone.

The ache
The devastation
Of dissolution.

I am still a flower in bloom.



2 thoughts on “Blanket: To Love is to Die a Little Too

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