Too Late

And still it seems I am left alone
the only one willing
to face these emotions
for again you withdraw
to your childhood place of safety

where to think
meant not to feel
and numbness
meant more than love ever could

and you hide within your intellect
while I wonder where you are
for your withdrawal becomes
more and more complete

while you write poems
of passion of the flesh,
minus the love that would
satiate my every need

I should know better
than to get involved this way
After all these years
and all the bitter tears
I should know better

too late, too late
these thoughts of me
that should abate the need
for I needed to be free
and flew away…


Copyright© 1999 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...