Forgiven, Not Forgotten

Forgiven Not Forgotten

Lingering hope that he would take her back
She would forgive him of course
Telling him, "Shhhhh! It's okay. It's over now."
He would bring flowers along with his sob story
Feeling guilty like a child who teases a pet
He knew he was wrong, but that did not matter to her
What she wanted is his love and affection
Apologies, champagne, and Madagascar chocolate
Something he denied her when he beat her
And walked out that door without his belt
Coach suitcase with clothes unfolded and his sleek briefcase
He was going to "her", that wench who came between them
Her best friend and confidante!
She had bided her time like a spider waiting for its prey
Venom piercing his veins and her heart
Paralyzing their sallow souls
She should have kept a better eye on her
Confiding dirty, paltry secrets
Her friend understood, so she said, even encouraged her
Manipulating, causing a chasm between the seemingly happy lovers
He would soon find out the truth
This toxin wears off after a while
Bouncing back, he would realize the treason committed
Making deals with the devil only means eternal damnation
Judgment Day would come and he would have no answers
Just tired excuses weak in their expression
Feeling sheepish, ashamed, wounded
The family he deserted – six month old Timothy, and Sarah, three
The worst kind of evil imagined
Yes, he would return
Rules would be established
A set of laws governed by her
"You won't run very far next time", she mused
An electronic monitoring ankle bracelet
Yes, he would be forgiven, but not forgotten
She exists only in her fantasy
Twisted and sobering
That was enough for her

Clouds

Clouds


There was a shift somewhere in the night, a pause, where I melted
into you, coffee kissing caramel, and for just one moment, a slight hesitation,
I swear I could hear the clouds. I was wrapped in your stealthy embrace,
hand clasping hand, the gentle caress of two pulses synchronized,
conjoined, as one, and it dawned on me for the first time in many cranberry
moons and sweltering summers, that I felt safe, appreciated, joyful –
could it be that I felt loved? – and, as we lay, I prayed and forgave sullen
secrets and betrayals ago, betrayals that had feasted on blanket fear
and palpable pain. I forgave me, you, irony, and destiny, established faith
in feeling human, whole, for all its riches, glories, and pratfalls.
I saw that little boy, that sweet soul, and rather than cover my eyes blind,
or bend and ear towards self-loathing, I completed him, just as I felt
the wind rush past sticky lies, just as I heard sparrows strum in sycamore
trees. The clouds, the clouds – I swear I could hear the clouds, feel your breath,
allowing the tension in swollen muscles and cynical bones to finally relax.

I have no illusions that there will be eternal sunshine in silken shadows,
but there is no doubt I have been changed, transformed, and if tonight delays
tomorrow, if yesterday yearns to haunt, there will be an unspoken truth
that will remain in just three words, foolish words perhaps, but words
I desperately seek, nourish, and covet:

What about today?