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sometimes
my sadness
she sings to me
I can hear her song
even from a distance
and lately its much,
much closer
my body aches
knowing
I love as a fool
the purity of spirit
can not be competed
with
not while housed
in the imperfect flesh
though I do try
failing modestly
failing spectacularly
I never fail to fail
at any level
for I realize now
I am dull grace personified
in another 's heart, eyes, mind
he did, does and will reside
there is little or no room
at the inn for I
How I wish it could not be so
he wants the company and affections
of this live woman
but keeps his best for the dead
three quarters of my silly putty heart has
been removed
and I find myself contemplating on a cold, cold night
just how far, well or long I can live on such little amount
of heart left in me to continue
I've wished him all the best
of course
but its the mediocrity of my own foolish lot
that shivers deep within me
still in such shadowed shock
to think I felt so loved
when he was loving me with but a quarter of his heart
how so much more must her serving have been
I have not the experience of such a plateau perched
to speak on such a voluminous idea from
I can only give a general  account
of the emptiness I've come up against
and lost my all to the circumstance
of him loving another far more even in death
than he could ever hope to love me
and so I quietly step back
Bleeding But Not Bitter
staring at the abyss through the
eyes of a heart in mistaken recluse....................
(Feb. 8, 2010 808pm)