They Never Tell You

They tell you it will hurt,
The void, the churn, the silence,
The hoping and the deafening drumming of your heart,

They tell you what you will miss,
The hugging, the kissing, the whispering,
The bed that smells of quiet lovemaking and wine,
Warm bodies intertwined in the morning,
So you hide your tears till the sun turns black,
And then cry silently into your pillow,
Praying sleep will end this dastardly dream,

You miss the kiss before you start the day,
the phone calls on lazy afternoons,
surfing channels on the tele before bed,
knowing exactly where her head will rest and,
Where your hands will talk to her skin,
They never tell you, you will miss the routine,
The predictability, the careless monotony,
No! They never tell you that.
Bastards!

Source - Grist

Yesterday

The bus I missed on my way back home,
Last night's dinner and it's taste outworn,
The bell ringing on her telephone,
Reminds me of yesterday once more,

Old letters and pictures and tempers blown,
A crescent moon and a hint of cologne,
Some words I forget but remember their tone,
Reminds me of yesterday once more,

The sweat on my forehead and her beguiling moans,
Sheets in disarray, a mesh of wine on the floor,
Her repulsive after taste and the perfume she wore,
Reminds me of yesterday once more,

Raindrops dancing against the casement bow,
a reason to betray, an unrepentent baritone,
Her unsought warmth and my frosty brow,
Reminds me of yesterday once more,

a kiss goodbye at quarter past four,
my need for her deminishing even more,
her forsaken guise, like it was etched in stone,
Reminds me of yesterday once more.

My admission to the guilt like it was some sort of joke,
a spring in my step, my heart gone rogue,
the smirk on my face as I walked back home,
Reminds of yesterday once more.