WEARY LOVER SEARCHES FOR THE OPPOSITE OF LONELINESS

Executioner of my soul,

you once were my phantom of perfection.

Now my heart no longer somersaults

at the sight of your curvaceous body,

and my toes no longer curl at your embrace.

Recalcitrant lady, I never mastered

the push-me-pull-me theme of your drama.

You never could decide if I should stay or go.

You never stopped talking about your turmoil

when I yearned for stillness to reign.

Was it all a dream when I drummed on pots

and slapped a tambourine while you danced

the fandango with snapping castanets?

I urged you not to be afraid of the dark.

You wasted time searching for omens

that flattened the brio of our romance.

No omen has more wisdom than the heart.

I shield my eyes from no longer

seeing you as my world.

And, thanks for reminding me,

not to forget to die.