Wanton Ambling Nymphs

By Bud Koenemund

I fear perfect love is but fantasy;
A fiction dwelling solely in my brain;
Some trick of the mind’s creativity –
That domain where wanton ambling nymphs reign
O’er intellect; suffused by fairy tales
Oft’ ending happily ever after:
Though illusions inevitably fail
When affection’s nativity yields hurt.
These dreams ne’er align with reality,
As I awake confined in loneliness.
Yet, this despair does afford clarity –
A recognition of unworthiness.
   Time’s passage will prove no balm for my soul;
   I am left without cure to make me whole.

You Don't Love Me, But You Won't Let Me Go

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

Fearing you've returned to hurt me again,
I crumble once more – left wondering what
I've done to deserve the unending pain
You inflict: the indifference which cuts
Through body and soul, infecting my mind
With doubt, and an anger that taints the heart –
Poisoning affection; leaving me blind
To delight, e'en as I seek a new start.
You don't love me, but you won't let me go.
And I, unable to resist, still trust
An illusion, just an idiot's hope,
Someday we'll rebuild passion from the dust.
   Dark Lady, I beg, understand my plea:
   Claim my hand…or forever set me free.