for you, my one true love

to behold the eyes of art was the greatest gesture in the world
how your body posed with such delicacy and grace
upon those worn out cotton sheets stained within previous sins
I stood there silent and gazed upon your beauty
how your legs curve and tilted with such a feminine passion
how every luscious kiss burned into my uttermost soul
revealing something I could not describe in words
no words at all, even the word "love" was insignificant  

and although the theme of a fool has been cliche
that is exactly what I was
a fool who fell into a dream and a desire that was never meant to be hers
you who I still love with every fabric as though you were still here,
you were not meant to be mine....
it is a shame this theme must continue as I carry the unrequited love into my bosom
and cry my solitary tears of heart ache and disbelief...

my heart spills tears shed of it's own free will for the lover I had lost

to another cliche theme in the recession of the mind,

another teenage suicide seduced by depression to take her own life

and where was I?

I not to be found had lost some years ago the beauteous joy

that made my life poetic

my midsummer romantic, my dramatic lily in the lost desert

isolated there in Heaven....

The things one misses when one cannot see

what is right in front of them

without warning, without signal

it was all over

what was left for me was nothing but the bitter memories

of not being by her side

nothing but the shame of calling her by name

in my lonely and haunted nights

where still her shadow creeps and befalls me

as I succumb to a shred of insanity

Sometimes I cannot dream nor sleep

for I am afraid

of the taunting nightmares of the past

I cry in my sleep silent tears

and sometimes wonder if  those tears were really her's

if she could possibly be within me

if you could read or write or speak

I would tell you of the tales I once read a time ago

I would let you know that you still linger and I still love

that your pressence is still strong and I can feel it

and sometimes it frightens me

sometimes I think I can feel your jealousy

and your yearning to be heard....

And in the summer on the anniversary of your demise

when the wind blows just right

I swear I hear your voice

gently whispering to me

and I swear I feel your breathing

or a hand perhaps lightly touching my pale cheeks

in the darkness of the night....

It was a long time ago

when you made that fatal decision

and ceased all your mental anguish....

It was a long time ago

that I loved with all my will

and my true lover vanquished...