Post Marriage Muse

When it's over, it's over and not over.

I've seen you around.

Heard your voice on the occasional mornings 

that were more brisk then they ought to have been.

There is still something about your breath

when it mixes with the air.

Gives me the desire to breathe again.

I remember that at one point I was

your husband,

and that recollection is inexpressibly odious to me.

If you should live as long as I do,

then at twenty and two I am completely hopeless.

I have not forgotten the moon as it settled low

and violently stirred the brewing storm.

Nor the last bloody glance you cast over a world

quivering with the ferment of tempests.

I have yet to rid myself of the echoes that 

rose from the sea before I allowed myself

to be crushed by the onslaught of tides.

I love you came like a crow's song spoken from the lips of an angel.

Sometimes I fool myself to restless sleep 

with old memories.

I always wake up presently deceived.

I know that we had every reason to part ways,

and sometimes I don't think about you at all;

and I have even written a love poem that wasn't laced

with all the words you used to say to me.

You pass by it like a whisper.

Staying just long enough for me to remember when

you were my only muse,

and love melted against the sound of your name.

Disappointment has made me reckless.