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Maurice Yvonne Poem
listen,
the whispers
of leaves
turn colour
autumn is here.
now that you are gone
who will wake every morn
to lift the sun
unveil the sky
etch in the clouds
who will paint the rainbow?
i had a dream and in the dream i wove you a poem
i used the fiber of my character to create spools of silken thread
dipped in the juices of my passion i dyed them in the colors of my imagination
re-enforced each and every single strand with the strength of my love
touch,
the echoes
of the rain
- waters
- blossoms spring.
now that 'us' is just a word
no longer with you as one
i alone wind up metal toys
cut out paper dolls
the beach swept from under my feet
the child in me flees.
spun spools from the intricacy of my spirit
designed a pattern
to the rhythm
of the music
of my inner thoughts
enamoured in your vision
crystal beads gather on my brow
as i toil your finely bred gift
as i braid every part of me
with every memory
into every sliver of fabric
taste,
uncut
snow shapes
crisp cold
ices the wintertide.
instead now rusted
a fools gold chain of loneliness
hangs around my neck like a noose
mourns a union that once had breath
a twosome that now is dead.
see,
the sand sculptures
paint
rekindle
a childhood summer
past.
sew in the loving glow emits my flawless dreams
with my boiling blood initial my woven piece
my work at an end i awake
you lay there a wingless angel asleep
smiling as if you heard a bell ring
your boundless warmth embraces me
the moon no longer smiles
the stars no longer wink
smell,
seasonal airs
stimulates senses
memories they deliver.
without a touch
barely - i kiss you.
in this
my decade of one
hope is a wickless candle
the night just day without light
in the glee,
hopes and dreams,
in the human spirit,
lives the miracle of life.
magnificent
voices in every pitch
deep and resounding,
the melody of echoes and whispers – uncut.
Jan 4 2017
With Love
Armand
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2017
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Maurice Yvonne Poem
genius?
sometimes you are in its minimal spotted light...sometimes!
other times you just know you've been touched and you freeze,
moved but frozen...like a stranger it moves in, does its work and leaves.
...maybe it's been a while since you two spoke...
when the dead sea still hosted life,
the hanging gardens of babylon grew in sinc with the breath of the planet,
before the tower of pisa started to lean or mayan buildings were in ruin.
so you write words...any words...they might at least soothe your hurt
hold your heart in a protective shield.
you know how crippling unrequited love can be.
do you still dream of its hug...genius?
life and love share more than a first letter
(like the first letter you wrote under the veil of inspiration).
they also share good and evil...it's a flip of the coin.
either way is fine with you. you'd bathe in holy water or sell your soul.
life, love...passion...somewhere in there...it lives, genius.
all of nature a reflection through its transparent figure glows dark
like the shadows live in the radiant illumination of evening rays.
so let me speak of us!
recently when i tried to hold you...
you were like a ghost in the bright of day,
a phantom out of its element...
there was nothing of you...i could embrace.
when i tried to enter you a freezing cold ran through me like a winter brook.
you exhaled me
as if i were fog on a deserted country road invisible to absent eyes.
still you were my drug of choice.
addicted, i chased the dragon...you...genius.
memories fill me...
days when we would paint words,
stitch in a metaphor or two,
weave in music,
write instruments to fill in the spaces,
ordain a voice.
i remember...
you wanted to taste me
i was overwhelmed
how you put your fingers on my lips
how you licked them...you...genius.
you were that giant pine i would climb in the dead of winter
(why do they say that "the dead of winter"? winter will die
when hell freezes over. winter isn't death it's purgatory.)
the one with the needles that punctures human skin.
come to me again and touch me...
like the butterfly does the wind...barely but thoroughly.
(is it true that just a tiny flutter of their wings could be
the start of a hurricane? are the icebergs melting?)
i didn't just write that out loud...did i...with you I'm shy...genius.
GENIUS?
fine!
hide.
don't show yourself.
don't speak to me.
fine!
don't bother with rising the sun today.
forget those showers you create your magic arc with,
vacuum away all the plants.
lower your wall of blue.
i'm not interested anymore in those pillowy shapes i use to love so.
i've always known it is fire that cleanses, water that burns,
it is the moon that breaks the heart,
the stars that slaps the face...with...i don't know...reality.
i've always known by the time we see a star...
in real time...it's already extinguished...already dead.
it is our friends that will use us...our heroes that will lie to our face...
our blood will betray our trust...our teachers will fail us...
our leaders treat us like just another job...
the devout that will exhibit hatred.
still i believe. no matter what else...the rose will always survive.
the petals deceiving. they will repel all that is unholy.
grab it by the neck and squeeze out its black ooze,
leaving a gentle soul there to admire its adversary.
don't even get me started on the orchid
or even the flowers all...alphabetically.
i dare confront the beauty of nature's art unframed...
canvas loose to admire...genius!
i miss you but i am out of tears.
do drop in though.
i can offer you a cup of dry warmth...
soothing like burning logs that crackle with laughter.
or
take you to my secret place.
behind the camouflage of forests dense,
where vines grow through spiral staircases
made of turtle shells and dressed in discarded snake skins.
green is the theme there. it is everywhere,
unabridged, unabated, unaffected, undisturbed
with a fuming, burning, yearning to be touched.
so let's...let's grab...hold...squeeze..
feel free from the cheap paradigm offered.
i don't think you know, even while you sleep, i hold your hand, genius.
dream a full rainbow on a fingernail moon night,
feel february twenty ninth its absolute might,
taste fully the slight of a pheasant in flight,
yearn eternal life, wish a vampire's bite,
concoct rhymes nicely fluffed with built in sight.
genius?
on this sombre morning the sun is blinding.
damn my eyes.
there is a negative entity drapes our children's world.
shame on us...shame on you...i need you.
i am reduced to an objective observer.
life glides on the little wings of its carrier,
its final resting point in the hands of the wind.
another life carried away on a worker bee,
busy stealing nectar from a succulent bud.
a stowaway hangs on for dear life to the flyers leg.
gets off at the next flower.
meets up with a companion to create a new life.
genius?,
everything changed when I met you.
was the sun rising or the mountain sinking.
was that an orange globe against a blue sky
or a lit round hole in a sad wisp of air.
i'll play a keyless piano if you'll paint me a horizon I can reach.
i'll sing you a ballad with a single note...
i walked into my life without consideration.
maybe crawled.
all the same...
when do I get a choice.
when will they stop holding death over my head.
if i could direct a few more plays with you as my guide...
my art, my life! genius i long for your influence...
even one last time to see your face,
unite and give you one last kiss...goodnight.
April 1 2015
Maurice Yvonne
Sponsor: Linda
Contest Name:A Million Dollar Poem
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015
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Maurice Yvonne Poem
if my love for you was any greater
the trees would line up in poetic forms
...awe you in sonnets written...
...part...to allow winds to cool your face...
to trace it with nature’s hand.
all the oxygen that covers all the waters rise,
supercharge the breadth of my emotion.
mountains would melt, shed their peaks like tears of joy.
even the arid deserts serve up fruits,
their prickly pears peeled on a platter.
sunset would pause and sunrise hurry...
...exist in a paradox to herald your presence.
petals would climb their stems
regroup to bloom again.
butterflies re-cocoon
emerge as glorious fairies
for all children to adore.
the skies would willingly
shape, etch, paint,
frame my exuberance.
the planet would swell,
the galaxies expand.
in the endless depth
of my singular love
i hold you dear,
safely contain you
in my admiring smile,
for now,
forevermore.
16~10~2014
Armand Hamouth
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014
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Maurice Yvonne Poem
From childhood it was a world of two...you and I...
I leaned lightly, leisurely against your heart and you let me in.
We were five I use to draw you rose scented flowers
using an ordinary led pencil. Youth! The world was ours.
Seven! I know that was the first time I saw you blush.
I whispered a song for you so no one else would hear.
Oh when we were nine! The potato sack race. I entered with Lisa.
You gave me that look. Oh that look! And you left without a word.
At eleven years old I had my "magic wink". "A Magic Wink" you'd
say sarcastically. How it made you giggle to make fun of it.
It was at thirteen we decided to burn the gym floor with our moves.
Our first dance. You stole my breath. Emptied the room of oxygen.
Fifteen...we started running and my God we ran and ran...
our shoe prints dug into the concrete. It was then I knew. Forever.
Then suddenly at seventeen in the slip of time you left, dissapeared.
Stunned! I slept through the next two years even in the full light of day.
At nineteen I swam an endless pool but even the chlorine couldn't
clear your scent from my memory as my spirit filled out hard as steel.
Was it on my twenty first birthday you showed up? You showed up
tried to hug me hello. Silent! Cold! I turned and walked away.
Was I still twenty one when I apologized for that day. When you asked
for an explanation. I recited false words but we both knew. Hurt for hurt.
Then at twenty five we still had issues to work out. I asked you bluntly
why you cut me loose in the prime of our youth. You my first and only.
I asked the question that burned in my gut. Without words your eyes spoke.
You were still in love with me. There was only me. I your first and only.
Finally our lips met to never part again. Left to wonder why, I accept our
lives without an answer. My love was that. Why would I have let you go?
Older than old now. One last time you leave. Death makes this choice.
Alone again I remember how I never knew why once you left.
Not everything is explained or understood,
like music by a one arm man playing a violin.
I sport my blank stare. Naked is the body of life.
Mystery sings blind the song of the lark!
and I...
i think of you.
March 29 2015
Armand
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015
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Maurice Yvonne Poem
A
fine
Parrot Tulip
in vibrant intensities
with unique undertones
of green acquirable only in a
few forests. A ruby red swirls within
its petals beckons awareness of those very
strokes that live in the lustre of your shapely lips
like fantasy realized. Mirthful yellows in all those lacquers
barely ever seen as one would scorch their eyes to gaze lastingly
directly at the Sun - though I have been fortunate to witness identical
iridescence in strands of your hair you unintentionally flip and like dainty
fingers wave me on to move closer to your flawless frame - memorized easily.
A
special
fuchsia sparingly
paints the flower they
say exists only in certain
singular gemstones yet l know
this tincture for I have seen it in your
cheeks when we play and laugh. Oh your
laugh how it fills me - replacing noise surfing
the waves of sound in the surrounding atmosphere.
How enchanting when your laughter there - dwells to
tickle molecules invisible to the eyes but felt by the human
heart. Parrot tulips with their soft myriad shades become stunning
against a deep black backdrop which shimmers bright like your ebony eyes.
Sparkle like your smile and I grin happily just thinking of you, just thinking of us.
A
pearl
white that also
adorns the flower a
special light effect I have
found in your complexion - dazzles
my mind each and every time I see you.
Parrot tulips a miracle of nature, a special
breed I admit are as remarkable as any offering
that grows in our gardens but rarer still - you the flower
I share my life with. No one, no thing, no life compares to you,
your approach - for every time I even think of you, the joy it brings
completes the meaning of my existence full. If not for you no other delight
would have that extra zest I feel from the sharing of your love and light always.
A
Parrot
tulip oh
what joy it
brings. How the flower
draws these words from
me. Ironic how true allure felt
fills our glass so I thought I'd share
with you how it uplifts my days - knowing
confident in our love as one - you'd never resent
me speaking of an elegance other than yours. So you may
know - understand what the fibres of ones constitution compels
them to write. Now - about a mystique other than the one you sport with
humility. Finally I have written a poem on aesthetics that does not mention you.
A
closing
monologue.
Just above and
beneath the dirt grows
riches unimaginable. Made to
be absorbed by senses recognizable
only by a few. They are free for the taking.
An appreciation, a love of a natural essence.
A flower, a person, romance you breathe incomparable
to anything real or imagined. It alone are the wings we humans
seek...as real and as precious as all else consumable. How lucky I
am the magic handed out daily on these pages. The people I could never
find anywhere else then here. I am in love with their words in love with them.
the re frain
is a par r a
ot tu lip m
hid d a
en u j
n e
d s
e t
r i
c
e
v
e
r
g
r
e
e
n
earthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearth
r r r r
o o oo
o o o o
t tt t
s s s s
r r r r
o o o o
o o o o
t t t t
s s s s
April 27 2015
The Gardener
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015
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Maurice Yvonne Poem
~writer's notes~
i think out loud
from my fingers to a keyboard
so forgive me if my speak
is somewhat long winded
if it has swirls and curls
this is me
hopefully you want to hear
my voice in its totality
~the prologue~
just a child
he clenches his teeth
grinding
creating a screeching sound
much like worn out brakes
the yell of steel on steel
he bleeds
my God how he bleeds
a deep breath
and boiling burgundy
spills over the structure of his frame
wears down the flesh to the bone
the sun stops shinning
birds start falling out of the skies
have you ever heard a dog wail in pain
that was him that loud puppy
the barking that breaks the night in two
i confess he was me - emphasize 'was'
~the story~
back in the day
in the dead of night
still young
cautious
we met at a special place
where nature's hand had drawn a line
a spot unique only we could define
where pulses race at an amazing pace
like cranking dry ice through veins
You asked me "Do you believe in love at first sight."
I answered "I believe in love under any circumstance."
(later you told me you loved those words)
you clarified
"in love - i mean do you believe in falling 'in love' at first sight."
I replied "I believe in sparks."
your face lit up
"Sparks?" you asked
"Yes," I proclaimed
"sparks and kerosene."
looked you directly in the eyes
smiled and added
"wanna burn?"
we kissed
(how soft this moment was to the touch)
the cosmos slowed down
i swam in its essence at a crawl
devoured this sliver of time
as it simmered
almost at a standstill
I uploaded it to memory
my internal library
one with shelves
leather bound shards of experiences
with strong spines
one's could stand the test of time
our sweet union warm lit
now a part of me
you stole my lips
bound to my heart as they are
grazed against my waining restraint
surrendering all reason
i lost myself to your tender grip
your gaze touched me deeper than any man should be felt
like a unique note of music heard once never forgotten
my wanting
a whistling kettle
a cool vapour of cleansing mist
a burning desire to inhale your presence
and never breathe again
from then on it was always us
you
you were always there
when I thought I was falling off the earth
you handed me what you called gravity
saved me from an endless existence
among a bevy of extinguishing stars
always had
a paper pad
a pen
you were the only one
understood my ink flowed
of its own volition
had a mind of its own
could run slowly
like a glass smooth lake
or
like rapids - rabid
foaming at the mouth
a waterway
damaged by jutting rocks
as it hits the sea wall - hard
however
no matter the ups and downs
you
you were always there
when i sang Dylan and Cohen
quoted them in Malta, Prague, Croatia
lectured
people smile the same in Europe
as they do in South America
cry the same in Africa as in Asia
both
when tears flow over smiles
continued
in England some tend to speak quietly
in France their passion often screams
so when I needed you
when there were no words
instinctively you just held me
soothed my pain
i was a man in motion interested in fusion
our minds would eventually meld with love held
shared a single bed
like queen and king
when we walked the moon was ours alone
the promise of your love
the nature of your embrace
the perfume of your mane
you
you were always there
~ the epilogue ~
your words touched my heart
your lips softened it
your shine tickled my fancy
your hold owned my smile
together life seemed so unreal
in the best of ways
when the universe its vast array of entities
pauses for what seems forever
i dance stupid knowing everyone's looking
even staring in disbelief
that's what our love allows me the courage to be me
no apology
i live my time cradled in the calm of us
live it just - being
and you
you are always here
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2016
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Maurice Yvonne Poem
On the day
that John Lennon died,
people were just going
about their business
as they did every day.
Mark David Chapman
was reading
Catcher In The Rye
void of his holy self.
He would have had to
Imagine there’s no heaven.
John took the elevator
down from his room
at peace with his belief
that there was
no hell below us.
He stepped out
on that fateful day
over him,
over everyone,
above us only sky.
On the day that
John Lennon died,
people where just going
about their business
as they did every day.
Imagine, all the people
living for today.
Chapman talked to Lennon.
Just before he killed him.
He was singing "imagine
there’s no countries
because it isn’t hard to do."
Chapman shot his
hollow point bullets,
without cause,
there was nothing
to kill or die for
and no religion too.
What a senseless killing,
how senseless killing is.
I imagine all the people
living life in peace.
John fell to the ground,
a pool of blood beneath him.
A preacher on a soap box
unaware of the horrific act
that had taken place
was spewing words
that never belonged
to his soul but filled
the tin cup he was holding.
He yelled loudly,
‘you may say that I'm a dreamer
but I'm not the only one’
a woman in the crowd hummed
‘I hope someday you'll join us.’
A teenage couple under
their breath followed with
‘and the world will be as one.’
Amen!
They say when the police arrived
Chapman was reading his book.
Imagine no possessions,
I wonder if you can.
The Detectives did not wait
for an ambulance.
They rushed John Lennon
to the hospital.
They weren't looking for credit;
they had no need for greed.
The preacher had left
with his tin cup full,
no need for more or hunger.
At the hospital the air was
like most emergency departments,
people comforting people
who themselves needed comforting.
A brotherhood of man.
In a hospital with its tragedies
life is more than real
you don’t need to imagine
all the people sharing all the world.
It just is.
You can hear
their hearts
beating in tune,
singing
‘You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one.’
07~11~2014
Maurice Yvonne
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
Contest Name: I Love Rock n Roll
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014
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Maurice Yvonne Poem
This seasoned evening
sported a full faced
Orange Kool-Aid moon.
Fully aware it was a marvel
it shot me an arrogant wink.
Not once but twice.
I think i heard it laugh.
It certainly flashed me an impish smile.
Not much different than my own.
No camera could ever capture
a moment this precious.
This needed,
words-
the heart of my imagination.
I stepped inside.
Pen in hand,
iPad at my right side,
laptop in front of me,
desktop computer behind me,
electric typewriter on my left side
I was ready.
I only hoped I would be able
to express in words what
I had experienced.
I penned this.
This seasoned evening
sported a full faced
Orange Kool Aid moon.
Fully aware it was a marvel
it shot me an arrogant wink.
Not once but twice.
I think i heard it laugh.
It certainly flashed me an impish smile.
Not much different than my own.
09~11~2014
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Contest Name: Best Poem of 2014
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014
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Maurice Yvonne Poem
you write your words and they make me cry
you write those word and you know i die
but i've died so often now
i held you in my arms while you smelled my hair
i saw that pretty little smile you saved for me
we always ran
too wild to walk
it takes two to tango
only one to pirouette
when you did your round about
turned over every single leaf
left me out alone
in the dead of spring
or
was it winter,
it must of been
'cause i know i almost froze
you kissed me
back when we first met
we kissed a lot
way back then
how you loved my lips
the touch of my skin
your thick black mane
how you'd whip it back
exposing yourself all bare
we never turned off the lights
or ever said hush
do you still own those dice
the ones in gold
with embedded gems in black
you use to love to roll them
rolled those snake eyes that bit
i'd swallow the poison like lemonade
stripped naked,
handcuffed and whipped
your ceramic nails
tearing at me
my flesh on them
the blood on my back
i didn't know
wore my white shirt
'till someone screamed
from behind it was red
i dripped on the floor
like a lit candle
melted like a witch
drenched in Dorothy's water
you clicked your ruby heels
and you were gone
i wasn't in Kansas anymore
walked around with a briefcase
in my Armani suit
i never shed a tear
bedded woman half my age
they lined up in droves
to be with this broken man
i would yell like a cowboy
riding a bucking bronco
and i never fell
i was the man
everybody told me so
i would smile shyly
thank them their praise
but i knew who i was
make no mistake
every rodeo has its clowns
I wasn't the matador
even though I spoke fluent bull
the only knifes i carried were in my back
do you remember my white shirt
the whole time i justified me to me
by not thinking
by not talking
by not listening
by not wishing
or even dreaming
we both knew there was a gun in my briefcase
we both knew I would never use it
didn't own any bullets
still i pulled the trigger
some joy in that
pointed to my head
click, nothing
and when I saw you yesterday
and I held my breath for longer then I ever had
i thought the room would never stop spinning
i remember we spoke
how i saw it in yours eyes
as plain as day
regret
you knew of my success
how fine i looked
in my silk woven garb
you said
drinks?
but i looked at my watch
asked for a raincheck
you'd have none of it
and i think your teeth fell out
when i walked anyways
I didn't understand your look
you knew i had a backbone
you know i never flinch
that's the story of life
take it when you got it
with some guys there are no be backs
my legs were like led as i walked away
and i could hear your tears
but i don't care much for phonies
you threw it all away
when you decided
to look the other way
it broke me inside
i'd never be the same
i never turned to look
yesterday
slept the same as always
four hours tops
nothings changed
i'd give my right arm
for one pass of your breath
against my lips
but my soul?
never!...i'll live with the pain.
and other man stare
and other man wish
quietly yearning to be me
you know i want to laugh
success is like a flashy book cover
the cover is what sells the book
nobody bothers to read it
but they know the jacket by heart
set up a turnstile in my house
watch the ladies come and go
never let them get close
never invite the nice ones
the good ones the real ones
never want to hurt anyone
never want them to hurt like me
to hurt like me
hurt like me
like me
me?
i'd give my right arm
for one pass of your breath
against my lips...
Maurice Yvonne
27~10~2014
Dadirector's Free Style Uncut
Contest: Whatever
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014
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Maurice Yvonne Poem
Yesterday,
I went home for lunch,
I never go home for lunch.
When I got to our apartment
I don't know why but I didn't reach for my key.
Francine was at work and I always leave last in the morning.
I was sure I had locked the door but I didn't reach for my key.
I reached for the door knob and turned.
The door was open.
I don't know how I knew.
The moment I entered I knew.
I froze.
I could feel it,
smell it,
hell I could taste it.
I started walking but my muscles wouldn't move,
my lungs were grasping for air
for some oxygen
some sweet, sweet oxygen
but I could barely breathe.
“Leave!” I told myself but I kept walking.
Not really walking,
it was like moving through mud,
like a slow motion scene in a movie.
But this wasn't a movie.
This was my life and I could feel it slipping away
from my grasp.
I heard noises!
Francine.
I had heard those noises a hundred times before,
they were the sounds of an Angel
but this was no heaven
this was my own private nightmare.
The moans traveled through the muck in the air
amplified like the hiss from a distorted speaker.
It mocked me over and over again.
Climbing a mountain might have been easier
but I finally reached the bedroom,
and there they were,
and there she was.
I knew,
I knew the moment I entered the apartment.
Why hadn't I just turned back?
I could barely see, my eyes were blurry,
covered in layers of my own tears.
I could see her
I knew I had never seen him before.
They were naked and in our bed.
Naked in OUR BED!
How do you that?
How do you cross the line to that extreme?
You'd think the green eyed monster
would control my actions from here on in.
I did see green!
I was insanely jealous but I didn't want to
end up the morning headline in the newspaper.
That monster jealousy was by my side but I took
charge.
I'd have to keep him at bay, at least for now.
You'd think I would be mad,
I wasn't.
You'd think I'd curse and call her whore.
I didn't!
Being cut open alive must be lest painful than this.
This hacked away at my spirit,
tore away at my self worth.
I felt like a pile of worthless shreds.
I spoke
I mean my lips moved and words came out...
I think.
I think I said,
I'm not sure it all happened so fast,
she never spoke.
I could see the shame on her face
she didn't need to speak,
but,
but I think I said 'Sorry...
I said Sorry and I left.
I wandered for what seemed hours,
it was minutes.
It wasn't like I was meandering to a different drummer;
there just wasn't any music anymore.
I was moving to the rhythm of the beating of my own heart.
Like a broken record it was skipping,
like a broken record it played
in a loop of repetitive monotony.
I suffered in my circled steps
until I couldn't stand it any more.
I found just enough strength
to return to the apartment.
I knew she was gone
I already felt the emptiness in my whole.
We'd never see each other again.
We had been so much.
She was a big part of my life.
She was the love of my life.
I would never love anyone like that again.
So much of her was me.
I thought she was my soul mate.
We let go of all of it.
There is a feeling of betrayal.
A feeling of disgust.
A jealousy that takes over.
I'd never look at her the same again.
Everything she ever did from that day on
would always make me suspicious.
Jealousy would rule me.
Jealousy should never rule anyone.
If you can't trust the people in your life,
friend or lover, you need to remove that
person from your life.
You have to remove that person out of your life.
Trust, is the only gift we can offer.
Friend, lover or stranger!
People can trust me.
My word is my bond.
I let her go,
I really didn't have a choice
I would never be the same again.
She was gone.
She had left a note.
It said Sorry!
Sorry!
We both were.
Maurice Yvonne
11~30~2014
Sponsor: Verlena S. Walker
Contest Name: The Green-Eyed Monster
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014
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