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Sean Moore Poem
My Mistress War
I will always think of her. Sometimes fondly. And sometimes with disgust and
hate. When I wake up holding onto my wife, I think of her. In the quiet hours
when I’m alone, it is her I am with. She is always on my mind. She is all I
think about.
I miss her, and the way she smelled. When we were together I hardly slept.
She would keep me up all night. And now, more with every passing day, it is
during the darkest hours of the night that I lay awake thinking of the time we
spent together.
Her hate kept me warm when I was cold. Her rage fueled me, drove me, and
drove me crazy. Her screams still haunt me, something to never be unheard.
She made me a man. She took what innocent and childish ways that I had,
and replaced them with a lust and desire for the forbidden. I still want her. I
still need her. Nearly a decade after our first encounter, and I still feel her
presence everywhere.
With her, I felt as though I was exactly who I was supposed to be. I always
knew what I had to do. And life was simple. Not easy, but simple.
And then it was over. I knew I would never see her again but I could never
have expected how lonely I would be without her. In nearly every room of my
house there is some sort of memento to remind me of her. My body carries
scars and tattoos for her. I close my eyes and I see her. When I sit in silence
I hear her screams.
I want her. Always. I need her. Never again.
She was my mistress, and will be always.
My mistress War...
©Sean Moore 2014
Copyright © Sean Moore | Year Posted 2014
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