Poisoned Wells

Poisoned Wells 

For P.M. (A Teacher of Sorts) 

I am not disappointed.

In the beginning…
We only wanted
To borrow
each other
To dance
in stolen hours
And wallow in our lust
Like children playing
in heaps of new fallen snow

I knew,
one day,
I would trade you in
But I let myself
drown anyway
for the temporary
headiness of your mahogany skin,
the molasses of your eyes,
And the almost wisp of your smile.

But no one ever tells you
how hard it will be
To sever your soul in two
How desolate it feels to be
left behind,
not found,
not yours,
not…anything…
Not even myself

Silent riots
Launch like angry missiles
In my mind
And I am left!
Left
in the wake of our illusions
Left
to gather the pieces
of your mistruths
Left
to rediscover
the me I was
before you

And I wonder…
“Is this what it’s like
to die
on the inside;
to be so far from God
And yet no closer to you?”