Of Him

He loved her, and her love was true;
but somehow only when he reached
that self-abusive high he'd come feel
as a great need within his being. For her,
he'd even (finally, for a little while) come clean,
for a few months anyway, when he had lived
with her within the promise of her love into
forever.

Yet as those spider webs of haze
began to clear, he'd realized too many
feelings, rising up inside of him; and
waves of paranoia struck into the core
of all he was. He found that he just could
not face this fear of his at all. His mind
began to whirl within the words of truth
that heralded from her; there within the
loving power of their intimate connection.

But never in his life had he been made to feel
the gist of his emotions. And this seemed to be
her greatest need of all - that he face and change
and conquer these (that ball of negativity that he'd
held deep inside for oh so long). He tried, oh God,
he tried (or did he ever really try at all, with her?) .
Months had passed, and finally the level of almighty
guilt began to lessen, as once again, those drugs
he used came through for him and eased the many
tensions of his life.

Which was more important, then - those moments of
eternity that he had spent within her loving arms, or
this - the greater world that deemed itself reality?
He'd made the call, without imagining the price
he'd have to pay; for he thought (for sure) that he
had hooked her in. Mind warped, it seems, that
he had never really seen the truth of her at all.
Yet still, there was a secret place that beat within
his heart for only her. Faded though, as days and
months became no more that just the feeling of
unending emptiness.

For she was gone, completely now. No word, not
even electronic messages; it seemed she'd finally
found a way to leave him far behind. He didn't
wish to think at all these days. Even nature seemed
to now despise his every gaze. Where once he saw
a flower in bloom within the warmth of sun, icy crystals
had become the only touch he knew. And memories,
that used to stand in feelings of her clarity of loving
ways, grew dimmer by the minute, no matter how
he reached within himself to touch her, o'er the
distance yet again.

Another hit, another pill - Monday morning drawing
near again. Passing out in trance that never healed
(like the sleep he'd found with her). Icy pillars, prison
walls and bars - and so his chosen future opened
itself, there inside of him. If only he could put an
end to all the nightmares that still spent the force
of his own soul, each night on him...

? Michaelette ?

10/28/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...