Midnight, the water
running between us,
frigid the air –
despondent the heart
whose selfish outburst
destroyed the bridge
to your love.
(Twitter poems @Vjknutson)
Tag: heartbreak
Move On
Care will not change an ex –
tenderness rejected –
quit dwelling –
no more than a servant
in that abode –
innocence bore dependence,
and that perpetual need to fix
only perpetuated plummet –
hold cries,
confess
to being a survivor!
Worst Betrayal
Gentlest morning, and I touch
this quiet smile, lightly,
trust joy, us…
Sister shares a sad word,
where he enjoyed her honour
over me – been with, drank…
A language so strong that
dare can, in evening,
sounding old, never forget.
(Words courtesy of Magnetic Poetry online.)
Heart Bleeding
Even lamplight cannot penetrate
the obliteration of blizzard white –
the icy absence between us.
Red was the colour of our passion,
now red is the colour of this box
words spoken in confinement
condensation blurring sensibility –
the muffled sound of ringing,
too cold, too frozen in disbelief
to hang up,
move on,
seek warmth.
(Inspired by the image supplied by Willow Poetry for her weekly challenge: What Do You See?)
Intervention Needed (Haiku)
(Written for Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge: poison & past)
Defeated, I Turn Away
Back rested against post,
the figure guards the median –
poised with cardboard sign,
a simple plea for help.
Positions himself amid
gridlocked targets – usually,
I look away, disquieted,
but today I do not, wondering
what I could possibly give
this man that would lift him
from his plight –
surely others have tried,
and, yet, here he is
day after day
the same –
and
I am struck
with realization –
that we are not
all that different
he and I
both trapped in unhealthy
patterns, having adopted
personas that once served –
but now weigh heavily
with the stench of permanence
Does he not know it’s all
an illusion – a game we play
wherein we are the pawn?
I don’t know it either –
turn away, defeated.
(Frank is hosting at dVerse tonight and the jive is frustration and heartbreak.)
Unwanted Visit
The years have done their damage,
resentments, like border guards,
line up between us…
and then you just show up,
as if somehow that makes you the better person,
as if your presence will make me forget, forgive
and I fumble for the right words,
attempt graciousness, even as I’m struggling
to feed the hurt, coddle the innocence lost
you hurt the deepest core of me,
the child, barely able to stand on her own,
the burden of her frailty heavy enough
what amusement must you derive
from revisiting our torturous past,
I cannot fathom – all too much for me.
Fruitless
Fruitless is worry –
useless sensitivity
undermining vibrancy –
love smitten are victims,
pause as memories rise
analyze old wounds
revile infatuations
pain threatening
uncertainty too rough
a ride – open arms
wilt with inactivity,
isolated, regretful,
ideals grounded,
smashed by
fruitless worry.
Off-Track
Met him on the way to tomorrow,
pitched a tent on his front lawn,
both ignoring impermanence.
How is it the heart’s drumming
blots out the soundness of mind,
negates former promises to self?
The weather changed and with it
sentiments cooled, tempers heated,
a tempest ensued, she packed up
hitched a ride on a passing train
headed in the wrong direction,
her heart still a discordant drum.
Heartquake
mind regresses
in the aftershock –
tremors of misspent
devotion reverberate
suffocating debris
teenage hearts
caught in the quake –
a marital schism –
plucked unripe
sweetness battered
I, colourless
abandoned, like
a runner-up in
a beauty pageant
forgotten, flailed
failed as a mother
withdrawn, rattled
psyche exploding
survival a slow crawl
challenges weighty
aligned my burden
with that of another
six adolescents, and
a bi-polar man looking
for female direction
craved the laughter
of children, the sanity
of structures unbroken
dust of the aftermath
clouding sensibility
anarchy rejoices
at lack of clarity
loss of control, dreams
of bliss have no home
when depression rules
retrace steps –
ponder the road
that led to destruction
search for light before
darkness took possession
found a trail of
foundations lacking
fortitude, wrought
with cracks, underlying
angst threatening
the earthquake, I see
as inevitability –
my landscape strewn
with fault lines
corrupt under stress
drama follows the weak
an internal compression
and shifting, uncontainable
wildness – destined to
destroy – breakthrough
(Image: dictionary.reference.com)
