Widowed Without A Manual

Some of us grieve longer then others. I will not be rushed out of my love, that still inhabits my heart.

Poem of Dear Diary nov 17

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I walk with the rhythm of cold

touching my lips

Your hands wrapped around my hips

Movement fills

my eyes roll back mimicking my spine

Two become one, our hearts merge and beat as one

Your thunder fills my wonder

You smell the same as I

I look into your eyes

there is a galaxy of dots and lines forming a path

I will look for the crumbs they you have laid

So we may in another universe re unite

I miss you each and every night.




Author: ilovecloudstoo

I live in Canada though​ I was not born here. Newfoundland is where my heart breathes. Primarily I am a visual artist, welded and or cast bronze sculptures. Sylvia Plath may have been the seed planted in me that is creating poetry. Since then I have read so many great modern poets work. Art is my sustaining business poetry sustains my soul.

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