‘Tis most true to say
she was stolen away by
her integrity.
Wherefore in my dreams
Parsing out and making sense of my disobedience days
Moving at wrong hours through constructs of old, breath held, so as to remain unnoticed
Down hallways, past ghosts that do not think they’ll remember me this time around
All the while wishing for my new best friend,
I look for you
Find you perhaps
Then lose you again, for certain?
No knowing, anymore
No trusting
Houdini at the helm
While, wide-eyed and wondering
We write
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?
Brought your A-game, the victory, yours
Punted away the ball, nothing to lose?
Found a penny, pockets so full
Left it laying to corrode, not worth wishing upon?
Rose, like no other, name you dreamed of
Loved with abandon, but for her thorns?
Find you she will, she who’s your own
Knot unending, what prayer will find you?
You’ve mistaken me
Forgotten I’d told you
My childhood day-to-days fuel me still
Hope beyond reason
Vision despite the midnight blue
These ever-present gifts to me
I’ve years to your Days
In your all-knowing, understand this
You’ve nothing to give
That I haven’t got
These aches
These pains
These days
I promise
I won’t
I don’t
My mind
My body
My thoughts
Remain mine
Remain His
Remain forever
The sliver of time before I became tragic
Was it a wicked serpent’s word
Some desired autonomy
This devotion to husband and child?
Think with me honestly
What of heart’s protracted pain
Is my sweet apple affinity
My downfall?
Never mind the what-you-thoughts
Heralding your head’s blessed energies
Let dance to freedom on blackbird wing
Every “Why?” upon your lips
Will you listen with unmeasured courage
And stay, as cello notes, when doubt encircles you?
What man, after all, needs to glance up from bed and find gauze curtains with crochet flowers blocking the morning light
When is there any right time to feel the frustration of taking to task offspring, not his own
Why, I ask, would he ask for the bounty of trouble, help, and honest beauty She brings to the table, when there’s plenty of “elseness” on his plate
Who’d wish for a real-live helpmate when the workshed walls are already perfectly papered with such willing hands
Where is there any avenue he’d daydream for a walk, anyway
Oh, love
LisaRosier.com 