p.s., I’m OK

I waited a lifetime to be lied to by you
To be held close and told I was always the one
My hat’s off to you, for you studied me well
Alone, and again abused, by my best friend

Forgive me, My Love, but I am slow to learn
This was all a mistake, surely you’ll come to say
I’ve been holding my breath, certain you will return
Does the Universe want me to stop waiting, Dear?

In You

They were both tall and brunette
And, also like me, with child(ren)

Gentle in purpose, were we
We three moved through our space with womanly grace

Believing and knowing life was bigger than us
And yet, still, we seemed bigger than life

That day I felt my foot slip, I stumbled so slightly
My sister in her mind, offered assistance to me

She and I noticed your absence of hand
Upon her, the higher, we felt your eyes land

What was it, we wondered, you’d hoped to achieve
Moving your heart from the woman who’d believed

In you

Unaccompanied

A duet I attempted
Unaccompanied, unbeknownst
Stalled, partway through
For, I looked around to see
At last, see
You
Eyes askew
Singing some other song
Or, perhaps no song at all

A duet I attempted
I still hear, distantly
Voices of us
Together at the keyboard
Fallen on deaf ears, eternally
You
Struck a chord with me
Yet, I admit, it may be
An ensemble I forced, forgive me

All Talk

She’s talking rhythmically
Of the good in goodbye
Gets me to thinking
Of the waiting and why

Everyone around him lives
While he waits to die
Sipping all-alone punch
In a house built on lies

Not Natural

Black diamond, I’m afraid
The day draws near
You’ll allay alone
You scare them so
They’ll ask, aroused
They’ll linger, then loiter
Then, taunted by some ego
They’ll tumble
You found them
You called them
Out

Shane Instead

Four rhythmic beats
Two words in West Indies timbre
And I was taken aback

Back, when I was something then
Again

Then again, back when I thought to dance
Those steps
Found me, easily

Those songs, those singers
Left me, heartily
Dancing alone, unknown
To me

Define Alone

We are alone, but looking less alone these days, these nights
A bit oxidized, without a second pair O’ eyes to tend to things too
And of gardens, flowers and florals seem to be in season into perpetuity
Libraries, are we, arent we?
May our posterity, should they someday see it so, pity us none