Questions in Lingering 05-18-2010
What do you do with altered perfection,
perception blinded by cracks in the substance,
abuse in the corners of the eyes reflected,
when seeing yourself as you once were?
Where do you go when dealing with impatience,
a longing for what is already sampled,
the taste on your lips that lingers and teases,
with promises of "someday", "one day", and "ever"?
How do you wait for the rose's full bloom,
the healing from wilting, the uprooted sweetness,
the repotted soil now a makeshift home,
in hopes that you'll be there for the plucking?
Who is to blame in this process of assembly,
piecing together what once was whole,
what once was beautiful now terribly damaged,
once was full of love now empty and lost?
When will the tempest calm and settle,
and stop with the lashes of hurtful spite,
and have forgiveness and serenity, appeased,
so that life can continue despite all the pain?
Why does this happen, this torturous limbo,
this twilight of hoping, of longing, of dreaming,
only to find that the real settles in
and sweeps it away as if never having?
-------------
Quietly dedicated toJohn
What do you do with altered perfection,
perception blinded by cracks in the substance,
abuse in the corners of the eyes reflected,
when seeing yourself as you once were?
Where do you go when dealing with impatience,
a longing for what is already sampled,
the taste on your lips that lingers and teases,
with promises of "someday", "one day", and "ever"?
How do you wait for the rose's full bloom,
the healing from wilting, the uprooted sweetness,
the repotted soil now a makeshift home,
in hopes that you'll be there for the plucking?
Who is to blame in this process of assembly,
piecing together what once was whole,
what once was beautiful now terribly damaged,
once was full of love now empty and lost?
When will the tempest calm and settle,
and stop with the lashes of hurtful spite,
and have forgiveness and serenity, appeased,
so that life can continue despite all the pain?
Why does this happen, this torturous limbo,
this twilight of hoping, of longing, of dreaming,
only to find that the real settles in
and sweeps it away as if never having?
-------------
Quietly dedicated to