Thank You

Never has a word escaped my pen,
unless fueled by agony.
Ink will not run without tears.
And so while you were here
my pen remained still...
We loved and laughed,
and claimed the world.
I see that sweet morning smile
each time now that I wake alone,
and reach for my pen.

The words are back.
Often making no sense.
Keeping me awake at night.
Blurring my vision
as they ache within me.
Driving me insane with
childish ill-tempered rhymes.
I curse them as the race around
in my allready too-busy mind.
But what would I do without them now?
How would I find release?
I'm sure the searing ache in my chest
would destroy me.

And so I ramble on
trying to outrun the pain
with my pen.

Trying to erase the longing
with words.

I fail.
Each time I fail,
but at least I have the words again.

Thank you for what we shared.
Thank you for the love.
Thank you for the memories.
Thank you for leaving.

© 1998 Barry Veinotte

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