The Devastation of Ending
Like glass and despair,
she sits at the edge of breaking,
dark clouds embracing the tainted air,
and he in rages flowing,
sewing his own demise,
paralyzed by fear,
for she was his true savior,
the glue that bound him to the world,
and deeply did he feel the parting,
way before it pulled into his station,
so panic opened gates,
as fate exacted its toll,
his fractious will too trill
for kind ears to hear.
Stars fell in romantic ruse,
for they like birds of prey
in buckshot sprays,
fell to earth in silent, glazed-eyed death,
bereft of all that in his heart remained,
unable to arraign or blame anyone,
for it was he, his rash and emotional pleas
too much for her to bear,
that now became the tear
of life’s fragile flesh,
a blood oozing hemorrhage,
as flashing memories taunted his fading will,
in acceptance of his failing, now
a still and wordless loss.
All she wanted, her fantasy dreams
fell from schemes so long upheld,
but pain was all that seemed to be,
a future bleak, an angry sea,
and so she shed her will,
to save them both, to instill
a purpose beyond their scope,
before the tragedy got worse,
and he in some denial
held to the last moment,
before a dull grey-eyed despair
revealed his understanding,
and the sun set on an
unspectacular horizon,
in lack-luster sympathy of days closing.
She walked away,
with terminal bleeding,
her heart heaving in sobbing remorse,
a mind torn like soiled rags,
a soul on knees in pleading a relent,
an end to this her act of courage,
knowing she was right,
but failing to feel its meaning,
until the deed was done,
and numb she slowly became,
a survival of this game called love,
her joys soured to a guttural aching pain,
as each step took her further
to the devastation of ending.
Tony DeLorger © 2018
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