Oh, Boy

Boys being Boys

Time for Goodbye

To Watch You Leaving . . .

is to know such pain, it’s jagged edges tearing into my soul. As a stake from the garden tears into the warm, dark earth.

To Watch You Leaving . . .

knowing all the while that never again will I fit myself, warm with sleep, against your solid back.

Nor hear your steady breathing. Or feel the beating of your heart.

Watching you leavingTo Watch You Leaving . . .

aware in every moment of every day that my dreams, my future; once tied with silken ribbons to yours, will never come to be.

And the mornings once so silent and hopeful, us gazing at the mountains and so gently awaiting forever – are now but small pieces of my past.

To Watch You Leaving . . .

your heart a tight fist of anger and your dry eyes betraying nothing of you. I cry for both of us, my love, because you will not.

To Watch You Leaving . . .

is to know that I’ve lost my place on this earth. My station. My heart’s home. That I will wander, forever a nomad. Alone and afraid. And in my troubled dreams watch you leave, again and again.

For the balance of my days.

This piece describes but a fraction of the feelings experienced with the loss of love.

by Jocelyn Galvano-Pickett

Weeping Angels

.

Don’t let the angels touch your flesh,

or you will live an old life fresh.
Don’t blink your eyes, or look away,
Lest you live your life in yesterday.

They turn to stone when them you spy,
And granite wings will never fly.
They’ll kill you nice, but you’ll be dead,
and all because you turned your head.

So never blink or avert your gaze,
or shortened then will be your days.
Don’t blink, don’t turn, don’t wink an eye,
when’ere you see an angel cry.

weeping angels, Dr. Who

An Angel Weeps