I Asked

I Asked

It was I who asked you
to let me go, if you could not
love me.

I,
of course, knew you
could not.

What do I get for this
murder/suicide/martyrdom?

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Obituary

Obituary

This is not self-pity.
Nor, self-hatred.
This is self-grief.

I grieve the end
of my unrequited love.

Which was the sum total
of my Self.

With you goes,
not just my love,
but the entirety
of my being, my existence.
I grieve for myself.
For my own passing.

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Deserving Disservice

Deserving Disservice

You
are a difficult person.
And you know that.

I am easy.
And I know that.

You demand service.  Always.
I serve.  Always.

I am schooled
in the necessary art of masochism. 
And sadism comes
naturally to you.

I have no clue
how you thought
that we are not
made for each-other. 

Go,
perhaps there will be many
who will give you the love you deserve.

I do not
even deserve difficulty!

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Grieve/Celebrate

Grieve/Celebrate

I am invited
to a sumptuous dinner.
I eat well. 
It seems
that I enjoyed my dinner.  To others. 
For I am good at pretense.

Only I know that
without you, I can enjoy
no dinner. 

Without me,
do you? 

Good for you. 

My remaining years
are too few
to not grieve you. 
Yours, too many,
to.

Go,
celebrate.

-

Without You

Without You

Without you
life has no meaning.
So is it good
that you went early. 
Or bad?

-

You Won

You Won

You pushed.
I pulled.

You won.

Goodbye.

-

Empty ...Yet Again

Empty     ...Yet Again

Another day draws to an end.
And the Universe yawns, once again.
At my stupidity.

Must I always wish
to fill my system with passing comets?
A short burst of energy, emotion, engagement,
enjoyment?

But, as ever,
the ethereal enchantment
goes expeditiously extinct.
Again, no more.
The devotee is destitute, dead.
Again, no more.
The love is lost.
Again, no more.

I lose, again, as always.
Alone, again, as always.
Empty, again, as always.

Left again, alone, with my tears,
and my words.  My empty words.
Rumi's Shams has again set.
The light has again gone out.
All that remains is the twilight, the promise of the darkness to come.
The demons.  The beasts.  The vampires. The loneliness.

Yuck...
Who cares anymore.
Not even I.
I am stupid.
I must pay the price. 

When will I ever learn?
Humen and I are not meant to be.
I rue the passing of my comet.
But then, perhaps,
I am no star.
Or perhaps am, but with a tail, myself.
Capable only of wandering.
Destined to wowing systems for a brief interlude,
between their silent, morose, meaningless existences.
And then, to leave.
Trail blazing.
Or, tail flailing.

Or else, I am,
but a line.
Either,
I have no intersection
with another.
Or if I do,
it is meant to be a brief meeting.
And that, to only send us away.
Farther.  And farther, from each-other.

A line,
unlike any other two-dimensional existence,
I can hold nothing within me.
And if I do,
ever so ephemerally,
I am soon empty.
Yet again.

I am a line.
Separated again.
Empty again.
Yet, a line,
always, infinite.
At both,
non-ends!

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