Beyond My Reach

Soft music plays in the background,

soothing.

Steaming coffee held in hand

warming.

Watching cold November rains

drenching the lasting autumnal colors

bleaching everything to ashen grey.

Summer’s warm rays gone,

replaced with winter’s cruel winds

and blowing snow.

Spring’s rebirth, that is what I wait for.

For in those brief moments,

I can recapture the belief of love ever after.

The artist’s easel set to southern light

a portrait only half in the making.

Shadows on the edge of a damaged soul

staked like prey in a velveteen web.

Broad strokes insinuate a half filled form

yet blackness shrouds the face.

Where did the time go my love?

Why have you not claimed what is yours?

A writer’s pad set to the left

passages of lyrics

half formed, making no sense.

Tear stained for the pain

that seeps through my pores.

For dreams I write,

so I can pretend

that you are mine again.

Insanity bleeds from me

my mind has become a blank blur.

Numb to all but this heartbeat

that flutters beneath my breast.

Your heartbeat.

Your promise.

The one that said

you would always return to me.

Beyond my reach,

beyond my door,

in the real world you dwell;

far from me and my torture.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

October 1/17

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dec·a·dent
ˈdekəd(ə)nt
 
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