insanity's grip

nothing remains after your whirlwind exit
your faded shawl slips from my stooped shoulders
tepid tea stains the cool porcelain cup
its twin is broken, like my passion
the fire too has gone out
in quiet wonder I slide deep into dementia’s arms
again, no sleep, but a waking dream
that toys gingerly with my nightmares

lilac flowers papered the east
and west walls, a room to rent
upstairs where hope was born
in the fragrance of your hair
nightly we danced like marionettes pulled
by the heartstrings of life
unthinking I slipped on love’s path
you followed like an unwilling shadow
mimicking my every movement
yet the light behind your eyes was never
brighter than dark, brooding incomprehension
always searching for the reasons
why I sang at dawn... was joy not enough?

patience stumbled after a thousand repetitions
finally, in agony I said to you, until only a whisper was left
that love’s devotion had made me your prisoner
captured gladly, you entwined me in your need
an ache for riches, which made my sweet emotions
drown in a pauper’s wish at your fairy tale wells
you had no faith in my greatest offering...

nightmares rarely soften the scene —
never looking back, you leave our haven under the attic
untamed, the tears of your poet lover leave streaks
on the windows — you never look back

insanity’s grip lessens
I stoop to pick up the fallen dove grey shawl
I gently place a kiss on its softness
to remember the curve of your shoulders
a broken heart has taken youth
from my strong arms

the lilac print is dim now, like my eyesight
yet the endless scent of your raven black hair
ignites those youthful sparks, for time
has not extinguished my loss



insanity’s grip
[2008.9.8...a]
Written for the "Invalid Item"  Contest