PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Their wedding picture mocked them from the table,

These two whose minds no longer touched each other,

They lived with such a heavy barricade between them,

That neither battering ram of words,

Nor artilleries of touch could break it down,

Somewhere between the oldest child"s first tooth

And the youngest daughter"s graduation, They lost each other.

Throughout the years each slowly unravled that tangled ball of string called self, And as they tugged at stubborn knots, each hid his searching from the other, Sometimes she cried at night and begged the whispering darkness to tell her who she was, He lay beside her, snoreing like hibernating bear, Unaware of her winter, Once after they had made love,He wanted  to  tell her how afraid he was of dying,but fearing to show his naked soul he spoke instead about the beauty of her breasts.She took a course in mordern art, Trying to find herself in colors splashed upon canvas, Complaining to other women about men who are insensetive. He climbed into a tomb called the office, wrapped his mind in a shroud of paper figures, and buried himself in customers. Slowly, the wall between them rose, Cemneted by the mortar of indifference, One day reaching out to touch each other they found a barrier they could not penetrate and recoiling from the coldness of the stone, each retreated from the stranger on the other side, For when love dies, it is not in a moment of angry battle, nor when fiery bodies lose heat. It lies panting, exhausted, Expiring at the bottom of a wall it could not scale,