Mysterious Tragedy

I wake to my reality,
wishing I was still asleep.
Devoid from emotion,
and painless from you.
You dance naked in the sheets,
trying to remember her name.
Wishing it was mine.
It’s my voice you hear
lingering your name,
highlighting you with love.
Like an intruder, I want her out.
Jailed for disturbing my
piece of heaven with you.
You close your eyes
to recall my touch.
Her hand cradles the
small of your back.
You are a stranger engulfed
in her foreign land.
Actions and words
don’t mean a thing.
When you’ve been lying
between two lovers.
Pain that bleeds deepest
I will forever and always know,
You are my mysterious tragedy.

 

11 responses

  1. My favorite thing to do is “sleep.” But, then again I don’t get much of it. More of an insomniac. LOL, thanks for your comments on my blog. Here is one of my poems from 20 years ago:

    Empty

    How sad and lonely I feel empty,
    There is no one here to talk to me.
    I need you, and you are not here.
    I stare at your picture and slowly the tears run
    Down my face, like drops of water falling off the leaves after a hard rain.
    I miss you like a baby without a mother
    So, you take her place, like the first walking step
    You are waiting for me, with your arms out stretched.

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