I miss you

I know it’s not mutual

I miss you in the mornings and sob during the commute

I miss you when dusk takes over and I see the moon

I miss you in the whirlwind of life and the flickering static of lights at night

And I lie down in bed wondering when the stirring in my chest will cease and feel alright

But why?

There’s nothing to miss so this distance should feel like bliss

No more tiptoeing on egg shells and analyzing what’s amiss

No more unspoken animosities and apologies that always miss

No more what ifs and no more doubts

No more cuts from shattered fragments of trust

And no more constant breaks and rebounds

This is quiet but even then

I miss you still

I hate that I miss you

I really do

Because in spite of everything that has ensued, it feels like I’ll never stop yearning for you

What do I even miss?

I don’t miss my partner

Dating led to distress, distance and disruption

I miss the bashful boy within

My endearing friend who made plans on a whim

The person I was getting to know

The one who dished out witty quips

Even as he stumbled and tripped

Over words, over pebbles, flitting gazes but it really showed

The sincerity you held

The beginnings of friendship

A spark vanquished in the wind

Where did that unfiltered adoration go?

Let's be Frank...

I was sinking in the tank again,

And it left a venomous perfume...

The stink destroyed, and nearly liquefied my view...

I walked around like a cock-eyed sailor

Who was on extended leave...

The birds pecked at me

To get at any delicious meat that was vulnerable,

And open to the air

'til my clothes were torn and tattered,

And I could not be retrieved

From the gutter of unconscious thought...

The whole wretched thing was beyond belief

As I lay rotting

Upon the drain of some side road,

Along the jagged, nauseating edge...

Where the wind and the cold had left me...

At times like these the dogs must be

Completely certain

Before they feast upon your face...

While one was sniffing at my neck,

Another entertained my seasoned crotch,

As I attempted now to wiggle my big toe

To let them know I still had an inch of fight...

The Motherfucker would not budge!...

Well here I am in a big jam...

The Labrador that's violating the private zone

Below my belly is visually becoming aroused

With my inactivity,

And buries his teeth in me...

Shaking me around like a rag doll,

While a few horrified

Hobos pause in horror

On their way down the walk,

Pushing their belongings along with them...

At long last I am brutally released,

And tossed upon the concrete in a messy pile...

What the fuck's the point to anyone

When we've become invisible to eyes that only see

What the pacified passerby desire to see,

And dimly hear, and deem important to their psyche?...

The invisible cadaver...

The thing that barely has a name...

The broken face who's let himself go...

The girl who sits out in the rain...

You're eyes will never see us...

Though we are made of the same stuff...

The flies are feasting on my skin now...

The cops won't notice on their beat...

They only cruise the richer sides of town...

Their jobs are deceptively simple...

They keep the streets clean surrounding big business,

And swank...

The bars and restaurants, clothing stores...

Where status brings them in the doors...

That's where you'll find

The boys in blue...

And when the dying people do

They're sure to write us in their books...

Let's be Frank...

I was sinking in the tank again,

And it left a venomous perfume...

The stink destroyed, and nearly liquefied my view...

10/22/24

Bunny Villaire

Melancholic haze of fall’s days whispers,

Beckoning like surging waves upon the wind

To create a shadowed veil from depression’s

Already foreboding sensations it sends

Fleeting aspirations, like withered brown leaves,

Drift, scattering across the gardens of my heart

United in deep-seated wistfulness of emotional platitudes

While ceasing never in its quest to thwart

The solitude of long sought after, evasive peace;

Strengthening, it wreaks havoc with all doubt and

Dryness of the soul’s river expands, imitating

The heart’s long starved, thirst driven drought.

With the fall’s ache comes a residual of murmurs,

Mirroring a lack of any impending hope in sight

As winter’s encroaching call, like destiny, creeps in,

Akin to death, reminiscent of a failing plight.

“How I feel autumn's ache.”— Virginia Woolf

Cynthia Calder, 10.12.24