WEARY LOVER SEARCHES FOR THE OPPOSITE OF LONELINESS
Executioner of my soul,
you once were my phantom of perfection.
Now my heart no longer somersaults
at the sight of your curvaceous body,
and my toes no longer curl at your embrace.
Recalcitrant lady, I never mastered
the push-me-pull-me theme of your drama.
You never could decide if I should stay or go.
You never stopped talking about your turmoil
when I yearned for stillness to reign.
Was it all a dream when I drummed on pots
and slapped a tambourine while you danced
the fandango with snapping castanets?
I urged you not to be afraid of the dark.
You wasted time searching for omens
that flattened the brio of our romance.
No omen has more wisdom than the heart.
I shield my eyes from no longer
seeing you as my world.
And, thanks for reminding me,
not to forget to die.