The Morgue

I have hated you just as I've loved you

With passion and vigor and heat

With wholeness and the entirety of my being

It has always been you

Because my hatred is so much closer to my love than it is to indifference

For I could never feel nothing for you

Because you are everything to me

Wishing you were dead

truly changes the meaning

What does Goodbye mean

to dogs who have only seen

you come right back home?

She told me to remove the piece of her I loved the most so that I could tuck it away into the pockets of my skirts for safe keeping

But I curse the seamstresses who made these blasted things!

For they are far too small--

Too small to hold the universe of her eyes

Or the pretty plumpness of her lips

Or the curved roads of her hands

Or the golden glow of her heart

So how could they ever hold the endless infinite of her love? The very piece of her I desire the most and the very thing she's unwilling to give-- for she knows I couldn't possibly hold it

and I know I shouldn't try.

"Could I borrow your hand instead?" I ask

She won't understand who this man named "God" is or why I plead with him not to take her from me.

Her mind has grown far too weary

Her bones too brittle

Her joints too tired