ALWAYS THAT.

A WOMAN AND HER LOST LOVE.

There is always
The darkness of
The night, the deep

Darkness of your
Soul. Pierre told
You of Pascal

And his fear of
The vast expanse.
You have the hot

Kisses of his
To remember;
Those long drawn out

Kisses Pierre
Loved to give and
You in return.

The bed where he
Lay with you seems
Haunted now; the

Hard pillow still
Retains his head’s
Indentation.

You go to bed
Naked, wanting
To feel the cold

Sheets on your flesh,
Sensing the goose
Bumps tingle. You

Place your fingers
Where he once played,
Feel the chilling

Sensations of
Yesterday. There
Is nothing there

Now where he lay.
His thin ghostly
Image fills the

Room, but not the
Bed; his voice calls
To you softly

From the world of
Spirit, the place
Of the now dead.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A beautiful and haunting story. I like the description and your detail. You create a vision of a lonely woman wishing for something missed. A outstanding poem. The photo is beautiful also.
Coyote