I wake from dreams of you
those new terrors that replaced the old
more comfortable horrors of death and blood
and flame and fear
Sob-stained pillow under smooth shaved head
and eyes sudden stare into darkness
I cannot remove your pictures from the walls
where I stop and gaze into memory
and taste salt in tiny rivulets to my lips
Everywhere is a reminder of you, of us
this home, where you came, the bed where we lay
those streets and trails we once walked together
the park bench on that cold autumn night
Hand holding and kisses and the solace of sex
the gentle violence of love and the
melding of spirit and mind
I cannot let go of the memory or the longing
you who gave me power to be a better man
then ripped it from my grasp
and still I would do anything, go anywhere
to be that better man, the one you made
the one I made for me and for you
But I have only this grief, this cycle of tears
and impotent loss. This very existence
a fool’s errand of the sacrifice you made of me

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