Archive
12/20/10
Festive Restaurant
Until you left, two weeks ago, Linda, I'd all but forgotten how lonely it is to dine out alone, With no one to hold my hands, reciprocate my smiles,
Ignite a fire in my eyes, transform them into star sapphires, Express appreciation for my interest in her personal concerns, My eagerness to listen to each word she shapes, hear her, care.
But this Monday night, four days prior to Christmas Eve, I'm invisible within the festive din of this restaurant, Thrust back in the decade before I met you,
When I misspent the best energy of my vital passion, Chaperoning a ghost, escorting a zombie, shadowing a wraith, Trying to placate, ingratiate myself to, an insensate vapor.
I know I shouldn't complain, obsess about your brief absence; After all, your family is at the center of your heart. But the roots of my former aloneness grew from seeds of despair.
Could I dispense with the darkness that being by myself engenders, I'd do so with a flick of my tongue's tip, my Bic. But some wounds never go away, fade, rather fester restively,
Create agonizing nocturnal episodes of unholy loneliness. And though I know that within less than a week, We'll be sleeping together, side by side, again,
I can't heal the lacerations that cold ghost left on my flesh, Those abrasions which, to this day, mar my naked soul — The stigmata of her misandristic hatred, her misanthropy. Missing you, Linda, in this Chistmas-spirited restaurant, I realize what a gift I've been given, what a blessing, In missing someone who really does love me.
12/20/10
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