You were my reason to live and to love.
It seems I don't exist without you here.
Hours pass in endless days that come
to mean no more than just another urge
to join you in that other world you occupy.

The night's are best, for if I rest, at least I
dream of you. All the rest, at best, is just
surreal. There is no reason left. Some
vital urge that used to keep me going
has just lapsed into an unseen in between.

An emptiness awakes me with an ache
I simply can't explain to anyone. I love
you still, I do, and yet, this love of mine
keeps flowing into endless emptiness -
no longer echoed back by love of yours.

I force myself to move and do the many things
this life in time proclaims as necessary; and yet
there is no thrill to anything, for all is chill and
cold and damp, just like the grass that grows
so green within this autumn's make-believe,
there o'er your grave.

Weather permitting, I walk in the park, and stop
to rest upon a bench we used to call just ours.
Another emptiness arrives to fill the space
you used to occupy. And no matter how I
try to fill your room with other things, each
time I pass it by, the loving memories still
stream throughout its air. For you are no
longer there, and yet some sense of you
remains to haunt each moment of these
ever streaming, endless nights and days
without you here.

The chair you used to sit in sits alone -
unoccupied. The desk you worked at
looking so forlorn of any living thing.
Your chair, there in the kitchen, cries
out in an endless hungriness for just
you presence there again. At night,
in bed, the sheets are heard to scream
your name in absent agony.

Everywhere I look, a ghostly image
supersedes reality - and I swear some
part of you still lingers in the very air -
no matter how I try to rearrange
it all and bring it back to life. Was it
that you worried so much for my safety,
that your own was left too unattended?

If I had a chance, could I re-make the
past without that moment of your vast
departure? Or was it that you felt it time
to merely travel on and find another kind
of love, that somehow came to thrill you
more than mine?

People tend to come and go these days.
No matter how I try, it seems I can't connect
quite with their living level, for some part
of me is still attached to you. You were my
reason to live and to love, and I just don't
exist without you here - not anymore....

? Michaelette ?

Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...