Lover of the Words

She was a lover of the words, or so she said through sweet lips
Which caressed my soul like warm, flowing honey in June heat;
And being of like mind my heart was soon lost to me.

There for a time our spirits danced in verbiage and dreams,
We opened like God's flowers to the rain and to the sun -
The music of our words filled us with hope and love.

Higher things than this crass life engenders - better things.
We were closer to that state in which we are born and it was grand;
More angel than dust, more moonlight than shadow.

The words were me - no more or less, I was the song I sang,
But time was cruel and her heart crueler, the music was untrue.
Her words were but a tune to be played for a time and ended.

There was an emptiness in her; she sought diversion from life,
A game, a distraction - a dalliance with the lover of the words.
The words were not her; like wind there was no substance there.

She was artful, she was skilled; her locution rose and fell and darted
All in time with the movement of the spirit and I gave myself to it.
I was enthralled by the eloquence of her song, her cunning symphony.

And in her time she ended the recital - she went on to other pieces,
She went on to other patrons, and left me there alone without a sound.
She took the words and left a void greater than the one she found.

The soul is built on words, the spirit sails on ideals high -
Nothing else is more than empty dream to deceive poor fools like us.
The cruelest lie is the truth of the moment; sing your songs forever...

Or do not sing. Stay in the safety of your emptiness. Live your lie alone.

It's 11:50 AM here, so give me 10 more minutes:

What is in the cup is not a toddy but something stronger. I always pick the deepest darkest richest of coffees.

Please I beg you to pour one for me! I could use it just now. I was really reluctant to share this poem. It is intensely personal for me. To awkwardly paraphrase Hemingway, "Writing is easy, you just sit at the typewriter and bleed." This one came from the deepest trenches of my soul and seemed to take every drop of blood I could muster. Off to the liquor cabinet!