Mourning

Going back even further, here's a poem I wrote in high school circa 1988 maybe, not sure exactly. But I do remember EXACTLY what it all felt like: my first love, first heartache and its passing, though in fact it took a long time to *pass* - took me almost until I got out of college, sadly. And even now I hear friends run into him in Seattle from time to time, and he still talks about me, which is weird. But flattering, nonetheless! :)

As *they* say, there's nothing quite like the first is there?







Mourning
I regretfully arise
to meet the day.
Cobwebs of dreams
cling to my mind and shadows
linger beneath my eyes.

My first breath of the
morning is used
to form his name.

I caress my cold shoulders
and remember warmer
days when the phone
would jangle
the seven A.M. stillness
and his first breath of the
morning would form
my name.

Time passes so slowly
when I am not asleep
and numb
and dreaming of the one
I have lost forever.

Love passes so slowly
when I refuse to see
it go
and I keep false hopes alive
though I know:

I must wake to an icy
realistic mourning
in which no phone rings to say
I love you too.