In Darkness You Will Discover Stars

By Bud Koenemund

For C.

The night of death falls hard upon the heart;

A sackcloth veil shrouding everything held

Dear; breeding grief while spirit breaks apart,

And sadness engulfs those places love dwells.

Lady, I bear similar injuries:

Numbed by depression time may never heal;

Self-doubt that taints both joy and misery;

Abandoned to sorrow without appeal.

But, through pain, loss can empower your soul.

The maelstrom which brings about destruction –

Surging memories whirling uncontrolled –

Could ignite a fire of creation.

   Breathe deep, and do not fear to show your scars;

   For in darkness you will discover stars.

Memories of You Always Begin with a Smile

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

Memories of you always begin

With a smile; thoughts springing forth to curve

My lips: your laugh; whispers; treason kindled

In the dark; brown eyes; that Clapton song still serves.

For a moment – beautiful, though fleeting –

I see your face, and recall the joy of

First sight; offering my heart, not heeding

The warnings given – a fool blind in love.

Sadly, this pleasure cannot live without

Anguish, and gossamer visions spoil

As what might have been, but never was, routs

These daydreams, leaving affection soiled.

   Remembrance endures, the more torment mine,

   For time has yet to purge you from my mind.

Never Close My Eyes

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

If you were mine, I’d never close my eyes

When we kiss, afraid you would disappear

Upon opening; like those things enskied

When each morn the returning sun doth ‘pear

O’er far horizon. In truth, I’d savor

Every moment – and yet crave still more;

Searching thy orbs for some sign of favor

Equal to that filling my soul. Restore

Faith in love, and sweeten corrupted dreams,

With a look – evidence to prove thy heart

Attainable – for my hope and esteem

Are spent; bled away by an age apart.

   I hold now only memories, longing,

   And the cold comfort of these little songs.

There is no Twelve-Step Program for Heartbreak

For "Her."

Tonight, I’ll get drunk on memories, and
Stumble down pathways within my soul where
Pain and despair still hide amongst wastelands
Of hope, seething; waiting a chance to tear
At wounds left unhealed by years of neglect.
As darkness grows, I cannot elude ghosts –
Old specters – that continue to infect
My mind with dreams in which I can almost
See your face and feel the warmth of your skin.
Sadly, there is no twelve-step program for
Heartbreak; no “group” to understand my sins;
And words give comfort, but provide no cure.
Love is a vile drug. I am addict
To this vice, and the torment it inflicts.