The Empty Bed
A restless murmur within and without Squeezes and seizes the open soul
With a breathy air of teasing doubt
That curdles and swallows the spirit whole.
These lonely nights caress and stroke
A wanderlust of angst on thread
That the Fates do snip to choke
A life once awake now sleeping dead.
2 Comments:
Which is worse, I ask myself...
To starve oneself with spicy feasts and intimate famine.. always teetering on the brink of emotional death....
or to be faithfully, eternally nourished by tasteless meals?
I have chosen to live, while longing for those shared moments worth dying for.
It is shameful a choice was ever forced.
Bravo to the comment, yes, and yes again......by the way, Bee, I need a rentor for my condo, any ideas???
sb
the baby was born on the 17th
scary, nicu, me in ICU....last child-I mean it. If I had your address I may send you a card or something. How are you?
It's me, SB
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