Tears, bitter and sweet,
Fall into my lap
Making my hands too slippery to grasp
The things I wanted to hold onto
Slide through my fingertips,
The things I never wanted found me anyway
Scarring me as they slide away from my feeble grip
Leaving me afraid and bleeding,
With only tears now to heal them.
I loved you, ’tis true.
But it’s a void, vacant for me,
There is no ying to my yang.
No joy to my sorrow,
No sorrow to my joy.
It’s a lonely place
Loving someone who can’t.
There was hope,
For a brief moment.
It was all I had, but it was enough
For that moment.
Then it was gone
In a terrible, terrifying instant.
I can’t even fathom why I had it at all
Considering our history,
Passionate and cold
Ending every time before it could really begin.
But I did.
Suffice to say,
I don’t any more.
By Deborah E. Dayen