Grieve not for the loss of me
Also,
do not mourn,
each morn
Just believe,
when I say
't was good

I've lived
and
loved those days
then the wind came
and
did blow me away

Like a candle of sorts
just flickering away

Grieve not for me now
from this moment,
this day
I beseech you,
if you love me
love me,
as ever
the same way

loved

some poetry is dreamy
gliding words slide
winding
warm and enticing

yet a mystery remains
much the same as
not understanding my own dreams

I quite enjoy them anyway

His head is down,
she thinks it's depression,
but his stomach is so bad
there are tears to wipe
along with periodic prostate seepage.

Depressed, yes he is.

He doesn't believe he can work,
how will they live,
how can he ever be of value ...

His head is down
but he rises to privately wipe secretions,
and his watering eyes,
so she thinks he is only depressed.

I am imprisoned.
As you are.
Neither one of us can help it,
destined to be.
I'll try not to forget this unfathomed impossibility.
Still, the scent of white oleander falls not far
from a warm summer's breeze.

And if I see you atop the African elephant
with shotgun in hand, your home full of
trophies, I'll not understand, bwana, the killing
instinct of the hunt is lost on my sex, gathering
is more my inclination, and my hands full of snowflakes
will melt sooner rather than later.

Arms reach 
Tendons stretch
Finger tips clutch
Inches away

Touching the hem of your garment
Plucking a thread
Pulling away from me
Shoving me into the distance

No purchase
No grasp
No hold
No touch

Your smile tantalises,
the tone of your voice entices.
Your sparkling eyes make promises,
you are not willing to keep.

Torture
Agony
Assault
Battering

Slapping my senses
Why is everything I long for 
Out of reach?

Could you say
I fell forward
With caution thoughts,
Yet full weight ahead

Plummeting I hurt,
I lay alone
With wonders plaguing my mind

A what if
A maybe
A touch
A stare
A feeling

Repressible emotions
Are to blame;
I am to blame.

Could you say
The attachment I hold
Is but a self-induced curse,
I know it true

Could you say
I long for those moments
Withering
Abandoned
Exiled

I dare to tread
Where even angels
If any do dread,

Many works of creativity
I have read
And
Many poets
to victory lead,

I always endeavour
To help all those
Who for me care
As you do
And
Now my poetry share.

Your hands rough but tender
explore the spaces in between
alternate numbers,
you know, those memories of your
fingertips we never speak of,
breath is a divine instrument of torture
sometimes when it leaves you all alone,
I have loved often and many before,
but I could not have loved you more,
had I loved you any less
Gabriel's oboe summons us from our
missionary position, Adam and Eve
did not make love
did not know how to make war
behind closed doors
with memories of other lovers

Supplement

You are the percipient of I
understanding
all things relevant
in my
leanings
towards all
meaning

the rumble
lies within
the quiet sits outside
with mind between its claws

filled with jar gleamings

while the skull shells
sift their meaning
dark and sallow

your soul lays against
my parchment
thick raised
ink
fingerprint articulation
breathed in whispers
thick with want
like a shore wave
falling in the crescent coast

how I loved you the most