The final chapter of our union
tells of bone deep chagrin—
the dumb utter of
‘I feel statements’
plays itself like a mantra,
useless invocations found
in the crumpled leaflets
from the therapist’s office.
The pointed questions
from our guilty mouths
forces a sober thought through;
we felt the cold walk in
but we never felt the warmth walk out.
The silent stare between us
measures the immeasurable,
a gulf of indifference grows-
it’s time to close dead eyes,
and move on from this grave.
© Nancy Botta, 2019
Very poignant poem Nancy. I don’t know if it’s based on your life, but it certainly is evocative.
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Oh, so descriptive. Hope it is not a true experience for you. “Cold walk in; warmth walk out.” Sounds like mutual hurt for both. Great writing.
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I was there.
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Exquisitely captured 🥀
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Such a painful time. Hugs.
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This is so emotional yet somehow controlled as if there is a raging storm behind glass. As others have said, I too hope this is not autobiographical.
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Finding this in my inbox first thing this morning – before coffee even – just seems so apt. Beautiful work about an awful subject; I can only hope to one day write about it as well as you have. Peace to you.
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The silent stare between us
measures the immeasurable
*snap *snap
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That last part was really good, especially about the cold stares measuring the immeasurable!
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Well done writing.
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Bravo. Hit that spot that won’t heal. Good to know it’s not numb. Thank you
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oh …
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Separation of ways for a better journey hereafter
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