I'll Hate Myself to Sleep

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

Her words cut through the ether, ensuring
Another night I’ll hate myself to sleep.
The mind o’erthrown becomes an unwilling
Traitor – yielding all sense as mem’ry creeps;
Rising once more from the abyss of dreams.
You’d think by now my heart would be immune;
Standing impregnable ‘gainst lies which seem
Sweet, though prove nothing but a Siren’s tune.
In truth, I can’t deny wishing to hear
Those songs again, although I know they’ll cause
Renewed pain; fueling a madness I fear
Leaves love forever corrupted and flawed.
   Lady, I beg, demand no more of me,
   For thy tongue hath bred my soul’s agony.

Paradise or the Abyss

By Bud Koenemund

For TK

Enchantment from first sight I do admit;
Physical separation cannot quell,
Nor the disparity of years omit,
This truth which has too long in shadows dwelled.
Yearning to touch you compels – fingertips
Caressing skin warmed by dragon’s fire –
My mouth constantly hungers for your lips;
Though, lust is not the limit of desire.
I would, Lady, endeavour to become
The poet held highest in thy esteem;
For you, muse, who so oft’ has left me dumb,
Might mend my heart, and a lost soul redeem.
   I beg, let not impediments divide,
   And embrace these lyrics birthed in your eyes.

Doubt Not Thy Face Will Feel the Sun Again

For TK

Doubt not thy face will feel the sun again,
And bask in the warmth of love's majesty.
Like a flower reaching up toward Heaven's
Light, you'll grow strong despite this malady.
The fragments of your heart, too oft' broken,
Shall heal once more by the physic of time;
A spring will soften what is now frozen,
To seek anew that emotion sublime.
Though my well-meant words cannot ease thy pain,
Nor dispel the gloom found in the abyss
Of memory, know this darkness shall wane,
For melancholy can brighten to bliss.
   I pray divine power will grant thee rest,
   As peace floods the sacristy of thy breast.