The expulsion of love

this oneWhere are you now?

Sitting on your stoop, first light, cats weaving between

coffee in hand, watching sunrise,

what are you thinking?

You are not thinking of me

the door is shut on us and you turned the key

it took only the loss of hope that gentle thing

and I became a stranger

so many days, months, years and still

I know you less

is it that easy? Was it that hard?

The expulsion of love

still live, dying on the floor.

I met you when the coals were

burning hottest, all I wanted was

a reflection of those feelings

you took my hand and guided it

into your clasp and pressed my back

with a deep

push into another world

the world of you

where I have been these many years.

They weren’t just words

though if I strain I can hear

the first you whispered

our curled against other in dark

your fingers creating universes

I felt their beckon

as I had not before

the press of you and the beseech of me

it was as if once inside

you claimed that part and as your possessed

I never struggled to be free

it was what I had always sought

to be needed at that scolding temperature

we barely survived our love

it burned and that heat was

the very raging heart of us.

Now day is long

you are gone in so many ways

absent in your once fine mind

emptied of the gentleness I knew

a stranger to me, a welted memory

it is not death, it is not life

I cannot talk to you, the only one I would

I have no solace in recall

it is like being tortured

there is only time, and they say time

heals all, but that is a lie

perhaps for you, already forgetting

I recall too much and everything

is a red road sign to us always.

The day I stood nude on white balcony

I did not recognize that girl who

had stupidly wanted forever and you

she wanted the innocence of us

how neither had ever fallen before

how you were virgin of touch and I

closed and shut up

together we opened the universe

you, it was only you and

it wasn’t me but for the echo of you

enfolded and besotted as no

future can replicate

there are some times only

once and never again

moments and feelings untested

who meet and create together

that celestial place in time.

I think of you now with a crushing feeling

as if someone has come within me, a trespass

thrown out all the certainty and warmth

leaving me emptied and discarded

surely you know that and pass it by

as your armored heart does not

recognize me anymore

there is nothing more awful

than to fade and diminish in regard

until you are no more than

a throwaway comment.

I walk the streets of my memories

like a widow in her veil

watching myself dry into a statue

of torment and you? You I suppose are free

it was always your selfhood to

change and alter in fickle flick of wrist

the time, the hour, in this case the girl

who stands in her memory palace

trying to rid herself of the feeling

it will only ever contain your shadow

and the footsteps you left

some bloodied, some too deep

to ever expunge that influence or

the sound of your whisper calling me

over time and space to some created place

where I am ever yours and never

free of that promise I made when you asked

me to submit and wed, the marrow to

your existence.

I did not understand how easy it was

to break and smash the very articles of

us

oh my love, oh my love

I never said it before, I never said it afterward

where did you bury my soul? And where

is the key to unlock that prison I inhabit now?

where being alone, I hear at night

the fidget and torture of your touch

over the fading moon an outline of

you and only ever you, it has become

an effigy to something once

consumed me whole and kept me digested

within you darling, to your very core

where I heard your life blood rush and gather

I became then, the child of you

she cries out now to your emptied eyes

turned from me, reduced to ash

as cold and unfeeling, as if never was

the burn and sear of branded emotion

we called us two and now only one

the loneliness is destroying me

inch by inch, I claim further madness

for you were me and I do not know

how to exist without, the belief we were

sewn in harmony with

each other’s binding, become all I know

all of me born, the day you baptized me

with your claiming eyes

deciding it should be me, you take

as your mate in this world.

Now our world has decayed to naught

you will not return, or have a thought

for what you left behind when you

closed that door

and

without sound

left the key to

rust into

red

water

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24 thoughts on “The expulsion of love

  1. To have given all, without reserve or reservation, and to see the gift discarded, what pain compares to that? Truly loving is a gambler’s game, betting the pot on every hand. Still, if you don’t bet, you can’t win, even once, even for a little while, and so live a lesser life not knowing what it means.

  2. This…

    “emptied of the gentleness I knew
    a stranger to me, a welted memory
    it is not death, it is not life
    I cannot talk to you, the only one I would
    I have no solace in recall
    it is like being tortured
    there is only time, and they say time
    heals all, but that is a lie
    perhaps for you, already forgetting
    I recall too much and everything
    is a red road sign to us always.”

    It’s heartbreaking and incredibly sound.

  3. “closed that door
    and
    without sound
    left the key to
    rust into
    red
    water”

    This whole piece oozes anguish but those last few lines nail the loss of hope exquisitely. Wow, Candice, another heartachingly beautiful piece. ❤

  4. Yes EXACTLY gosh it’s like you are a mind reader when it comes to what I write Bob I love that because I know I must be doing something right to convey it so. Yes you are so right about that. I am beginning to see that life without love is futile so you are so right about living without love being even more so

  5. You are conveying it that well. I think the surest way not to live without love is to just go ahead and love and feel it, pain and all. How it gets expressed (or, if need be in a circumstance, not) and how it gets acknowledged and returned, or not, that is infinitely variable, and fascinating.

  6. Let the ache wear through your soles then throw those shoes away, dear poet; even if barefoot you shall run through the snow in joy. Who is to say one day it will not come? It will. Indeed.

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