Her Creviced Heart/Love’s Tomb

This is my testament,
hear with undammed ears an old sentiment.
Now, my fellow poets of secrecy,
I’ll allow you to hear me.

Behold poetic confessions of my black heart!

Many a poet’s confessions
are buried in their long,
undisturbed tomb of revelations.
Beneath this fleshy crypt lies unclouded truths –

that which creviced my old flames heart.

Somewhere within the cryptic mist,
lies the question of the meaning of our last kiss.
Oh, the mysterious confessions of poetic sorrow,
she never knew there wouldn’t be a tomorrow.

But I shouldn’t cry after our love’s death, she won’t know it.

Now the past crevices the earth, and billows truth –
a slit from cheek to cheek now exhales,
to tell you dark tales
of my betraying youth.

That person you remember will never die in memory.

I’ve left a heartache I can’t heal,
Betrayal is surely a memory no doer can conceal.
The loss in her heart was not much of a loss,
Who can miss a sculptor of a double cross?

A talisman of ill luck.  

What’s the power a dead-love
has over the ones whom parted?
What I have lost was something true –
the night our love with earthly feet departed.

Behold I pray before love’s tomb!

I hope today she cherishes the memories
and not fear making new ones with another.
I remember holding her hand to say, “it is over.”
With stony eyes that rained tear-droplets she sobered.

That veil of love’s death has not shrouded the memory.

“Why?” She asked.
The emotions of my face were masked,
“let’s move on and make believe nothing happened,” I said.
A promising relationship was then in an instant – dead.