What will it take

What will it take

To purge the poison

Stealing the days,

Devouring the flesh.

Gaining strength

From the demise

Of a broken heart.

Spoiling the company

Of old friends

With open arms.

Honest affection freely given

Springs a surprise that

Brings a lump to the throat.

Kind words and

The promise of support

Through dark times

Sincerely meant

Is difficult to ignore,

But it is not their struggle.

Nobody sits

In the dark

Of the bedroom

To salve the torment,

Unless there is the ghost

Of a chance

It is you.

A dressing gown

Waits on a hook,

On the dresser

Lies your unfinished book

Slippers

Stand idle beside the bed,

I can see you

Wearing them

But only in my head

And nobody but you

Has found a way in there.

I have tried to follow

But you evade my

Frantic grasp,

Flitting in and out of shadows

Hiding in whispers.

I am lost

In a labyrinth of

Darkling corridors,

Stacked high with

Stored reminiscence.

Old memories

Piled high in corners,

A heap of reminders

Smouldering

In an aisle of ashes.

A jumble

To tumble over,

A clearer pathway

Through the muddle

Of history

You seem to know,

Better than

I know myself.