I Didn’t Think Her Death Would Bother Me. It was expected, after all.

 

Oh tears wash me

wash these tired, jaded, eyes
wash away the times we talked and regrets of when we didn’t
that fill this mired mind with pictures
painted of memory and smoke
trying to hold one,
just one
only one

wishing to hold it always, never fading,
but as I try,
tears streak my eyes and pictures
break and dance past fingers desperate reaching
then wash back to fill again with
waves of sadness waves of dread

waves forcing forth tears and silent shaking
lost in sorrow
hoping solitude allows mourning without explanation required or requested
rolling in pure, primal sorrow – no comfort sought or wanted

oh tears, sweet and lonely tears, wash
wash away wash away

so in time

the blue day outside laughing can beckon not taunt
wash away the time that must be taken
to traverse this desert
crossing so I may drop,

dry,
exhausted,

to fill again with sweet, sweet water
at the oasis of
Carry On.

in time can I hope?

I can hope

in time?