Part I – Knocking on the Door

today she wakes
and looks in the mirror
again
she notices first
the remnants of last night’s all too familiar routine
fully clothed still
with bruise colored footprints left where mascara met shadow
during the waltz of silent tears
evident again in the echo of wine and spit
that mixed and mingled in the dark
leaving traces of their orgy in the corners of her mouth
she raises a limb as heavy as any redwood branch
to touch the nest of bad dreams atop her head
she stares blankly at the woman before her
youth still lives here, but it wears an old coat
to look at the ghost of auburn that was once a crown
a flaming glory that framed her naturally pretty face
is now to look at a reminder
of yet another step further from who she was
another step closer to who she is becoming
where once there was silk and cream
her face is now but a road map
to anywhere but where she wants to be
no distinction can she find
between the sleep weary blouse
and those roads leading everywhere but back
she draws breath and holds it while she raises her gaze
could those eyes really be hers?
the once vivid seas of blue now faded and dull
surrounded by tributaries of red
brooks and streams of guilt, anguish, worry, pain, and sorrow
clouding the windows to her soul
where once there shined such joy and true passion
eyes that burned so bright, they lit the path to his heart
like no man made torch ever could
but
her passion lies miles away
alone, crooked, and silent
his windows too
mostly cloudy with a slight chance of sun
a chance she lives for
but the light thief will return
and she won’t be ready, can never be ready
for that one moment the thief becomes a murderer
the villain of darkness called dementia
her love waits, unknowingly, for that day
she waits with him, but she knows he’s coming
and it’s killing her

part II – Opening a Window

19 thoughts on “Part I – Knocking on the Door

  1. Too much, SB. “youth still lives here, but it wears an old coat”, I love that line, but I will argue with you on this poem until my breath is finished and the wine is done too, doesn’t matter how long that takes, for to me you are some vivid shining light and it cannot matter what you see or what someone else thinks they say, for I am right, and I am right, and I am totally right, and you are wonder-ful. There is nothing else to say.

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    • you are my knight in shining scotch my northern brother. I love that you’ve bounded to the rescue like the best of the best Canadian Mounty…but it is not of me that I write, but a truly amazing, incredibly sweet, friend who is going through her own version of living hell right now. I wanted to paint the background here, and hopefully, the rest of the picture I paint in part II will shine on her as she has on those that love her.
      if I’ve not said this before…I love your fierceness NB and I’m more than a little lucky to have you on my side.

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