Posted by susan47 on May 28, 2006, at 0:46:26
In reply to What would it be like, I sometimes wonder, posted by susan47 on May 26, 2006, at 13:19:01
The first of so many days
like yesterday
and the day before
and the week, and the months
and the almost-year,
I think.
I cannot remember,
anymore,
what my life meant.
Once.
When my therapist was in it,
the one I called He,
and You,
and Him ...
The Voice ...
God, how I loved the voice.
Do you remember it?
The words of confidence,
reaching into trust, and finding ...
broken-ness.
One who was broken.
Not whole, not capable of being found ...
And when I was ...
you were not.
You were not ...
I wish for you.
I wish until my heart sprays open ...
in blooms ...
of blood-red carnations, or roses ...
something, anything but but blood.
The blood that was shed was all internal,
internal blood ....
blood of desire, blood of my desire ...
how I loved you
poster:susan47
thread:648899
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/write/20060523/msgs/649576.html