I cannot pine,
That terrible grief wrenching,
Those longed for expressions.

I understood the need to
Push me back into the river,
For water was filling the vessel
And we were bound to face
An airless demise.

Surely we both would have otherwise died;
You had to save yourself;
The weight of releasing me
Less burdensome than
The trials of life with her
Or alone.

I get that.

I cannot pine,
That terrible howling
Born of obliterated promises
In the face of steep terrain
One of us dropping
Out of the marathon
Suffering and ill.

I will live to tell this tale,
Though the story will remain
Unspoken
In the coming years of
Overspent devotion.

My pockets are empty,
The thief stares back at me
From a gilt edged mirror

Yet will I will bless this journey,
For every step I carefully placed
In love,
And will continue thus.

I’ve got this…

11/02/2013

Author's Note: Another recruit gone awry. I truly am a gypsy.

Posted on 11/02/2013
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