Pitch Black

She was as welcome
As a ray of sunshine…
On a parched desert world
Devoid of life
Atmosphere burned away
By hydrocarbons

She was as wanted
As a downpour…
On the day of the funeral
The mourners soaked
With cold rain
And bitter tears

She was as loved
As an armistice…
On the final day of a war
In which your son
Was the last one
To die

She was as pitch black
As the agony in her broken heart

I pulled the first stanza of this poem straight out of a comment I made yesterday about being a ray of sunshine… the rest of it just sort of fell into place after that. Header Image: Agony and Ecstasy -Paul Lovering

Selective Memory

Time softens all the jagged edges
The lens is hazy, out of focus
Lay the gauze across my recollections
When I remember what became of us…

Promises whispered, drunk on wine
I’d believe your whitewashed lies
And dull deceptions polish to a shine
Trace my lips with your fingers, smile

Make me slave to your obsessions
A naive girl at your mercy 
Just another trinket for your collection
Love, a lie, sweetness and agony 

Then depart without a warning
Despise myself, knowing I’d forgive you
Empty hours of constant yearning
To start again like something new

When you’d return with total assurance
That I was helpless to resist you
Confident of my acquiescence
You’d break my heart anew

And yet those days, those heady days
Of books and wine and conversation
The nights in your tender arms I’d lay
Then wake in solitude once again… 

So I choose the pieces that I want
Tiny fragments, bring me joy
And cast aside those that haunt
When I was your plaything, wicked boy

Image courtesy Indian Express

Starving

You used to feed me
I thrived on your provisions
The loving cup once overflowed
And you kept it filled from your reserve
You showed me possibilities
My imagination ran wild
And I wanted you more than sustenance.
A feast for the mind
A banquet for contemplation
But now we’re both starving
Unable to feed ourselves
On the meager scraps left in our larder
Stop with the metaphors, you say…
But I’m having trouble plain speaking
All those pretty possibilties
Are lodged in my throat
And your indifference is choking me

Header photo via Pinterest.