Ghost Years
You were soft, deceptive, petite.
Months at a time I held you, a fragile weight,
Work and laughs silenced to calm your unease.
Social problems, I again tried to mend,
Then the earth shook, bridges burned.
"I knew," you said, of the rot in my core.
My time, you devoured, wanting more.
The end, a ghost years in the past,
Your gain built on what wouldn't last,
My will, fragile and broken at times
Stuck together with promises and wine.
Twenty years bled into the void,
Twenty more now, unless I avoid
The grip of my chest. Will no hand place
Their hand in mine to find solace,
Leave clothes scattered, their smell?
“Noone else will ever love you," you yell.
Brian, Stour Valley Men's Shed, Long Melford