I will always be here
Alone, in waiting.
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I will always be here
Alone, in waiting.
Now with the Ides of March gone
There lies only dead leaves
Dead fruit, dead doves
And Spring flowers.
How lively and cruel
Mother Nature can be
How honest her birds
Who chirp Chickadee
Her hawk soars majestic
Through winds over sea
Her beauty unfolds
Without you or me
I bought these flowers
to brighten the room.
Then watch them wither
and shrivel to gloom.
Exceptional, still
they brighten the room.
In death as in life
how they still seem to bloom.
She let herself go
in all the beautiful ways
she was destined to
As I sunk deeper under bedsheet
wanting nothing more than to disappear
alone in the darkness
She was painting all her daydreams
in pale blue watercolor
twirling her brush between strokes
Like I had watched her do
so many countless nights before
like the time she painted me nude
And I watched her beauty unfold
like a single blooming lotus flower
adrift on a swamp at dawn
The day
is cold
and rainy,
the walls
smell
of paint,
a hint
of death
lingers,
my pockets
are
running dry,
control
is
a state of mind,
right now
I’m
out of it,
I bought
flowers
to liven up the room,
they
help
some,
today is
a soggy
mess,
as for
tomorrow
we will see.
The point
is,
that we will see tomorrow.