melissaahowells

      Poet's Home             All Poetry       Sign Up!  Login
© 2000-2022 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.   518037 Poems Read.

Search for Poetry

   


Read Poetry
<< [Previous]

In The Sanctuary Of My Head

The Broken-Winged Birds and People (re-edited 4/5/2323 3:03PM PST) (re-edited 11:14am PST 2/23/2023)

The Hell Of Winter (re-edited 4:27pm PST 3/9/2023)

My Grey Haired Love...La La Lullaby , La La Lullaby My Love

THE HEART IS AN ORGAN ON FIRE



When Mr. Bemish Lost His Last Good Pair of Glasses

Kathy Brown Kathy Brown

Something Not Quite Right About Here (Vortex) re-edited 1/26/2023

THE COOL TILES BENEATH MY FEET REMIND ME

The Way Of The Crow

DO YOU TURN THE LIGHTS SO YOU CAN SLEEP?

The Springtime Shadows Play Games Upon The Wall

CHRONICLER OF DREAMS

YET ANOTHER ANTI-POETRY POEM ( re-edited 11/2/2022)

You Do As You Please 8/17/2005 found poem, readjusted 6/20/22

HERE WE SIT AT OUR TABLE 2/19/2022

Much Better Than This ( A Conversation With The Universe)

The Straight Story (What Happens When The Writer Inserts You Into Her Story)

THE TIDE CALLED LONELINESS

A Girl Always Leaning Forward Looking for A Breeze

Entanglements

Have You Ever... (DECEMBER 4/2021)

Appetites

How I Still Love You

The Smile Which Eludes @

He Says To Me, I Think Too Much (and hence dream too much as well)

When You Learn Who You Really Are And What Is...

Anti-Poem Number Three 8/2/2022 Or, A Poem Your Proper Mother Wouldn't Write

Breathing On My Own

A Girl Is More Than a Beautiful Box re-edited 10:15pm PST 1/31/22

I LOVE YOU ALWAYS ANYWAY AND INSTEAD

Talk To Me In The Dark 7/8/2022

More Poetry >>

 
Features

  Sign Guestbook

Read Guestbook

 
   

Describe  9-17-2016/9:04 AM PST


what its like is
a hole
or
the lack of a place where
he, someone who was both
sacred/small
and once had been
of my life

someone who meant
something so huge
but, now no longer is

at times, not fully aware,
behind my reading glasses,
the ache inserts itself
like a phantom limb
tears fall
tattooing my face
with their etching cascade

everywhere I see
more holes
un-subtle reminders
a collection of absences
where once his small space filled me in

what happens now?
will my heart disappear?
where do I move on to?

left here
I'm somewhere
where, I don't really know

wondering
wandering
where did he go?
will I fall into his holes?

at the strike of
two a.m.
I often hear his tattered breathing
my right hand reaches out
for air

describe,
he instructs me,
as he chitters in my ear
in his invisible language,
write me out

and then I take up my pen
I write
until I crumple
into a worried sleep
and dream of
how he and I used to be.



Copyright September 17, 2016 All Legal Rights Are Reserved
By This Author for this WORK/ THIS SITE TITLE
Melissa A Howells/Meloo straight from her Tilt-a-World

blue menu with crows for G.





Vote for this poem