Consumed

God cares no more for the tears of a foolish man.

One who loves & wants & seeks & knows the child, the girl, the angel of his heart who lies before him in naked pose…

 

But dies.

 

For God, if man believed in such, knows nothing but how to hurt & cut & tear & destroy crippled man’s world.

He knows how to paint the dreams I have so black.

 

…Black!

 

This tortured epiphany of death, the cloud of time which takes all & leaves uncharted & unknown

Leaves me silent.

With hate for the dreams & hopes & eternal longing of broken men.

As such I am.

 

I kneel beside this naked corpse of my lover’s fine & youthful virgin land.

Beauty wrapped in golden silk & luscious white skin of tender age.

I love her.

Oh how I love her!

In death as in life I love her & no more will lips of joy be warm to touch

Or soft  nestling of her childlike chin breath happiness into finger tips which seek for her.

 

Hence I close my eyes.

& Tears dawdle upon my angered face.

Collective streams of memories flood my mind

& I hold her hand.

Cold & still.

 

Pain engulfed by pain rides through these veins of want.

 

I see no point

No purpose

No future morning sun without her.

 

I take the cut slowly.

 

Fingers of red rivers roll across my wrist.

 

Life subsides into forgotten dreams.

I lie beside her & cry.

I hold onto her.

 

Silence fills the world with stillness

& the leaves on autumn trees outside fall & wave goodbye.

 

 

© ed simkins

– life without her?

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Unknown Recluse

I am lonely but for the candle which burns before me.

My eyes tortured by the sight I drank of her this day.

Sweet & young & faithful,

Crimson flirt & thoughtful words.

 

I am sick for needing her.

For urging fate to somehow twist & bring her forth to my world of darkness this long & lonely night.

 

I am empty.

Numb.

Alone.

 

Her golden smile shatters worlds of desperate pain & feeds the world with love & joy & abandoned giddy smiles.

My angel!

My perfect, pretty smiling friend!

 

I am dying for the love of you!

That I could hold & dance & swirl with you!

That I could seek your lips upon these forgotten keepers of my words.

These gates which do imprison me.

 

I love you…

There! I nearly said your name!

& the world would know!

 

But I love you & my hands will hold you secret love,

Tomorrow in the kindness of the day.

& words will I stutter & speak & jestfully declare

That no girl makes the world so fair.

 

Or breaks my heart through longing for you!

 

For you!

 

& tears shed in wanton, frustrated fashion from these tired eyes.

 

I love you…

& I scream your name in calling you!

In wanting you!

In loving you!

 

– anguish.

© ed simkins 2016

What can I do?

I hate these days without her.

In every moment in which I hadn’t a thought of work today
I thought of her.

I could see her smile.

I still can.

& I want to hold her.
– I really want to hold her.
To breathe her in.
To have her close beside me.

I hate these days.

I hate being without her.
Without seeing her happy & dancing and those little things which make my heart go giddy.

I play her memory
& repeat.
& repeat.
& repeat.

Can I tell her I love her tomorrow?
Could my eyes scream with longing and smile burn brightly when I see her
& tell her, shake her, hold her, stroke her.
I love her.

I really love her.

& I don’t know what to do.

– I’m sick without her
© ed simkins 2016

Valentine Still Sleeps

I rode to her grave. Cycled hard.

13 miles of hills & rain & solemn contemplation.

Cemetery empty & dark.

I took her my card. To talk of love.

The stars sparkled as I sat beside her. & I wished and dreamt & missed her so.

I whispered soft adoration & I pictured her in front of me.

When we danced. When we kissed.

When we used to just stand & breathe & hold & in slow caress we’d love.

Fresh Red roses shone for her last night. Under the moon’s sad light.

I was lost.

Her death had brought the dog. An unforgiving black beast. A perpetual companion.

& we sat there & thought. Imagined. Pined.

But many a hour did not relieve the angst of her loss.

My grief at her death has not transformed.

Her stolen body leaves an empty hole.

Her beauty faded into earth’s forgotten dust.

She doesn’t care. For her tombstone is not her burden. Her reminder.

So I broke down & watched the world burn.

I hate these days. These ends to the night.

For the dead have nothing to say. They remain as silent as the living.

& I wished I could lie down n die too. Let the flood drown me.

End it.

Isn’t that the only way she’ll return? The only way we can be as one?

But the dead know of no pain. Nor do the ignorant.

So I waited for sleep. Or for her to rise.

& notice me.

Instead, the hours just slowly drifted past.

& I woke up this morning, eyes wet & sore.

Her stolen diary pressed to my body.

Maybe one day I’ll read it.

Maybe one day I’ll get the truth.

Maybe one day I’ll get to kiss my lover again.

~ a night spent with my girl

© Ed Simkins