A Place To Breathe

It's the endings that we are unprepared for.

The weight of the world made him weak;

and most days, he felt all alone.

The thoughts he thought, he could not speak.

The way was the way of his own.

Tired of the grit beneath his feet,

the calloused hands, and disrespect,

he never thought that he would cheat;

but he was tired of her neglect.

 

Every day, he worked hard as stone.

A tempest raged inside his head.

Thunder rattled him to the bone

as lightning struck the fountainhead.

Waves washed over honor with shame.

The dark carried him through the night

into arms of a brighter flame

until rise of the morning light.

 

He found in her a place to breathe,

the quiet grace of shape and form

to escape the sharp city seethe.

She was his shelter from the storm.

Would that the world would fall away

and leave him with her forever,

but the rain comes another day.

He knows that it’s now or never.

 

She had the softest silky skin,

and he found her quite surprising.

She raised him up, then pulled him in,

and he watched the gold sun rising.

It began with a look and smile

across a dim-lit, smoky bar.

She liked his face; he liked her style.

Blues fell into a cookie jar.

 

He returned to a feathered bed

feeling worse than he did before.

A spouse once, a stranger instead,

he cannot blame her anymore.

Lipstick stains on a collared shirt

bleed into remorse’s thorny wreath.

Sticking your nose into the dirt

does not create a place to breathe.

Author's Note

Reviews

[Julian]

Awesome work= the last five lines are the most powerful bringers of light to dispel the darkness of self delusion; and the sad story of initial estrangement giving way to a betrayal, not of spouse but of self. Momentary relief may still yield a lasting and haunting hollowness.

[William Michael Reeves]

I found this poem interesting in the way you crush the end rather than lift. It surprised me. Surprise is good in poetry. Like reaching into the cookie jar expecting chocolate chip, but get peanut butter instead. I imagine he got what was coming to him when he got home and she saw the lipstick on his collar. Paul Simon sang about finding comfort there, but as you write, it takes you nowhere.

[Weeping willow]

Wow! beautifully expressed words as they took me through the journey of love and coldness ;-]

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you for visiting and reviewing. I appreciate the visit.