Why?

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

You ask why I will not respond to calls;

Leaving communication neglected;

Letting silence greet appeals, as love falls

Discontented, and spirit’s infected?

Your indifference pierced my heart countless times.

Though, I confess, I granted admittance

To thy blade; an accomplice in these crimes;

Guilty, somehow, for want of resistance.

Still, you endure as muse: a soul’s agony –

Equal parts torment and inspiration –

Your face lingering in memory;

Ecstasy through pain: my devil’s bargain.

   Affection withered afflicted by lies;

   Yet, feigning ignorance, you ask me why?

My Own Worst Enemy

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

Heaven knows why I continue to blame
You for my fragmented soul, when the fault
Lies with me alone. But, admitting shame
Achieves no solace – no peace to exalt –
When my thoughts constantly echo failure –
Real and imagined – poisoning present
Delight; making my own mind the jailer
Of happiness. I fear this discontent
Will grow, festering in obscurity;
Resistant to the healing love provides.
Neglect has sullied passion’s purity;
Cursing affection by excising pride.
   Memories of you leave my heart fallow,
   And forever proofed ‘gainst Cupid’s arrow.

Lost in Translation

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

I sought to place you on a pedestal –
Enskied – the sun candescent 'gainst my dark;
Thinking you a being celestial;
An angel igniting the divine spark.
Desiring to shield you from a world
Of slings and arrows aimed at sanity,
Leaves my soul craving grace as madness whirls –
Begging one kiss to void profanity.
This wish to protect never meant possess –
Locking you away in tallest towers.
And, though some fear by worship I obsess,
My heart aches on, praying passion will flower.
   Often by words emotion can augment,
   But love unrequited breeds discontent.

Immunity

For "Her."

The poison of thy rejection has proofed
My heart 'gainst love's trick – asking sacrifice
Of everything for naught – and left aloof
A spirit shamed; being too oft' enticed
To lunacy. While flames which once tempered
The steel of passion have been extinguished –
Drowned beneath an ocean of tears offered
In vain – I rise now shielded by anguish.
Although my soul is filled with discontent,
Like some disease endured, I'll grow inured
To further ills. And, affections now rent
Will serve as catalyst for future cure.
   I'll evermore use pain's propinquity
   To fortify hard-won immunity.

Had I the Power to Stop Loving Thee

For "Her."

Had I the power to stop loving thee,
Do you believe I would remain enslaved;
Condemned to pay a Sisyphean fee
For a creature who has ever depraved
Affection? Could I simply exile my
Sanity to a world of pain; breeding
Madness within emotion gone awry?
Or, yield my heart's final beat; conceding,
At long last, a battle lost years ago?
Though I fear torment, my passion endures,
And, despite discontent, I'll never bow;
Only, endeavour to prove this love pure.
   As a soul lives beyond the mortal breath,
   So too will my devotion outlast death.