Love Story
I smile, willingly,
at your presence and surprisingly
you smile back.
I know you've walked the long, dusty road
Deep in thought or with no thought at all.
I've almost been in your shoes, but not quite.
Don't mistake me; I can deeply understand,
Standing at the pungent river
Of disappointment, anger, rage, desperation.
I stood on one end, you on the other,
the fog so thick that you merely became
Shadow, not man, amorphous and there.
That one world, dreamlike and vain,
Swirled around me as if I did not exist-
because I did not, merely a Shadow
Of my former self, I am, was, will be.
I found myself standing in Sun, if not
For the daylight to burn shame into me,
but also for it to burn my flesh,
melt my muscles and expose me rawly.
I wanted to grab my chest
and pull open my wounds
-gaping as they were-
and set my soul, my soul
free from my embodiment.
And I always saw you in dark of pitch night
unobscured by fog, daylight, and hate.
But you were on the other side of the river,
And all I could do to sooth your weary soul
was to extend my hand out to your face
and lovingly, lovingly, stroke the face
Of your Shadow.