(Sometimes the breakdown of a relationship is not a surprise to folks watching from the outside).
.
When I met his eyes
.
I saw into the depths
saw his emptiness
unfaithfulness.
He knew I knew
His fake jokes couldn’t mask
the pain he’d cause.
He looked away,
alarms his charms didn’t sway me.
I could see.
They believed
his false smile
piled on adoration
while he crafted
mutual ruination.
She
has strength beyond
will rebuild,
move along.
Broken heart,
How has this child crushed hope,
Torn relationship apart?
You’re a ghost.
They don’t give a damn these days;
Occasional text at most.
Maybe time
will heal whatever lies here,
Give grace, pass this pantomime.
This is a treochair poem. The triplet stanzas have an ABA rhyme scheme, a 3, 7, 7 syllable count, and alliteration.
The scrape of the snow shovel begins
just as my alarm rings.
The snow is heavy and ankle deep.
You should take my vehicle today, he says.
The studded tires stick to the road.
This is the safer route.
Be careful!
He doesn’t say I love you,
but I know it
anyway.
The clouds have come to Earth,
obscuring our panorama
narrowing the perspective
until the view is simply you and me:
this nebulous emergence,
hope and mystery.
Tight black ball
warm, curled against my hip
tail twitching in dreams.
Serious affection or just fluff?
It’s all the same to me.
It’s all just excuses,
you’d say.
Sure. Blame me like always.
Like her feelings are an attack
somehow.
Maybe there’s something
you could do,
to acknowledge hurt and pain,
instead of defenses,
show adoration again.
She loves you
Diamonds in the air
Twinkling in
Street lights’ silence.
Just a snow shovel’s scraping
In the distance.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Leaf buds, bursting hope.
Unfolding pastel visions
Relief.
She loves you
Summer green
Heat hovers in the air
Living breathing furnace.
And you know that can’t be bad.
Golden light illuminates scarlet visions.
I will never say you’re beautiful
I’ll be your friend forever.
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Win win you think
and she knows your thoughts,
that you don’t imagine
hers differ.
They do.
She wants you, coming and going.
Sit beside for both parts of the journey,
find moments of connection
have those conversations
that are skipped in the day to day.
Those too rare times when you’re together
with nothing to do but hear each other.
She wants words and laughter and plans.
You leave early. A note on the counter:
meet you there.
She puts her foot on the gas pedal
and travels lonely,
as usual.
Win?
or lose?
We need to be respectful
of tender psyches, mental illness,
all the agonies of existence.
We need to be respectful
of our own tenderness
and pained existence.
When being gentle of their tender troubles,
makes aches worse for ourselves,
who needs to respect whom?
Draw battle lines,
or at least find a bastion
against cries
calling you to your destruction,
dragging you to drown in the moat of their fragility.
Be respectful of your own precious sanity.
Gathering
pretend belonging
watch for signs of genuine affection
play the game,
be the same,
absorbing affectations
whispered longings
Gathering
connection.
Shawn L. Bird 