Archives for posts with tag: broken heart

Muse

In dreams she appears,
telling him there is love,
still love, and to find it
for himself once again.

He shuts his mind,
out of eternal loyalty
to the one who claimed
his heart, and to whom
he surrenders it still,
even in her absence.

He will not allow any
alteration. This must be
a false message, a cruel
sprite urging him on
toward some mischief.

He tries to put it out
of his thoughts. This
is not she, he supposes,
and yet as plain as any
cherished snapshot,
she appears, the moon
in her ethereal eyes,
coming to him

night after night,
crossing the celestial
chasm between them,
ever-attendant, bringing
a message he refuses
to consider. Love,

brushing against
his cheek in a manner
he might mistake for
a night breeze—
she implores him to seek,
even as love seeks him,
not yet knowing
his name.

Though she is gone
many years now,
she loves him still,
and so she slips through
the cracks of his spartan
heart, long in need
of love’s repair, gently
inspiring love’s return.

Claire Juno, © 2016

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The Collector

He surrounds himself
with art, as his way
of bringing her back,
or at least finding ways
to be close to her again.

Free-form sculptures
become a silent homage
to the one who inspired him,
who breathed life into his
once-nascent understanding
of everything.

The halls of his home are full
and empty at the same time,
a solemn procession of tributes
to the very one who cannot
return to see them.

All are cold, smooth,
motionless— just like her pale lips
on the last day she was here.

Claire Juno, © 2016

 

My Kryptonite

These buildings
I once scaled
are too tall and gray
for me today,
and the locomotive
rolls on by,
massive and broad,
unable to pique my interest.
Even light seems faster
than it used to be.
Not that it matters.

Birds fly overhead
with an ease
I now envy, and
the coat hanger
I tried to bend
in anger this morning
only exhausted me.

I rip my shirt open
from time to time,
looking for the usual
badge of courage
and strength, to
find a mere mortal
beneath the suit.
I can’t see through
walls anymore.

But in the end,
it was that picture of you
with someone new
that truly did me in.

Claire Juno, © 2015