Reflections on loss

It takes a sober day
to wake up within me
consciousness. Walking down
common roads to recollect
those fractured moments
shared with you,
and the lost sentences I read.
I consider the joys
that you felt and did not
feel with me.
I do not curse
my forgiveness- I am
grateful not to live
in antipathy.
I am grateful for all
the splendid things
you gave to me, and
I yearn to love your growing,
your changing, your becoming-
though it pains me
to let you go.
So I must-
that you might learn
to love, and share and give
again to others,
so much more,
the less of I.
                                                                             *

I find myself condemned
to repeat circuitous motions
that resonate only with
heartache. And the cold tomb
of the unthinking dead does not seem
so grave, when compared
to my mirthless solitude:
shaking with every breath
that life should go on,
unceasing, though the extension
of my form
sees little in a life
that is not lived
for loving you...