Self Portrait

My tears have dried to dust

I am abandoned desert

There are no bones left to break
Limping odd walks stumbling

Nothing but the vastness of time and years
Tombs loom beguiling stones

Of the same sameness
Blood thumping iron rust
Repeating
What my heart longs to hear

I would feel pain if I knew how
Your silence tortures me
Bereft of humanity
You hang droplets of care over parched lips

I am tired of this breath and
As chilly skin piercing winds blow knives
The next breath bound to come
Damning me to keep going
Without permission
I would stop if I knew the secret to ceasing

My will isn’t enough to make it stop
Loving too much the curse of neediness
Such strength has been reserved for other things

If only I understood the reasoning of repetitions

Lessons do not die until they’re learned
Your voice is quicksand
As enticing as a jagged glass lament
Silence is not comforting

Yet its stillness I will ponder.

Your love has been the death of me.