06 January 2014


By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

The worst thing about you leaving – again –
Is knowing in my soul you will come back.
Sure as the dark of night and April rain,
You'll return to heal yourself as you wrack
My sanity once more. I fear you'll wait
Until I've somehow patched together a
Heart you've crushed before. Alas, 'tis my fate
To be punished for the sin of love; flayed
Alive by your indifference; my will
Exiled to the wasteland of rejection,
And devotion exposed as a windmill
I charge heedless of my own destruction.
   Passion I held stronger than gravity
   Has yielded to painful lucidity.

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