Posts tagged “Loneliness

1-900-Anxiety

tumblr_n5vnprlsPR1tp8z9io1_1280

 

 

1-900-Anxiety

I get my therapy over the phone—
She pushes happy pills between cam shows.
“Take two of these
and call me in the morning…  Darlin’.”
I receive the anti-depressants
through the mail in a plain brown wrapper.
The sensation of silk
feels good against my naked skin,
but what I really needed—was a Valium.

Charles Coakley Simpson


Ghazal

tumblr_nh17w7v8TY1rmq0zwo1_1280Ghazal

for Triin

Longing is the agony of the nearness of the distant. —  Martin Heidegger

The wind caresses me in the winter of the night with the nearness of the distant,
while memory wraps me, warmly, like a blanket of wool, with  the nearness of the distant.

Your eyes: grey stars , a pallor in the darkness that leads me through the absence,
a chiaroscuro, an unfolding of shadows, where I meet you in the nearness of the distant.

There, standing with the crows, your hair windswept with the color of the wheat,
I walk alongside you through the forest of the trees of moss in the nearness of the distant.

A great, golden spire rises up out of the fog, and a snow lays lazily on rooftops.
A sea embraces a sleepy fishing village as my windmills turn in the nearness of the distant.

The wind caresses me in the winter of the night, and yet I hear the singing of bees.
I am the sparrow caged by the snow laden limbs of its tree, but  I will meet you—always,
In the nearness of the distant.

Charles Coakley Simpson

 


The Clown

 

tumblr_mq6sdzBtQW1sy4tc3o1_500

 

The Clown

And so they laughed at your expense—
Giggled when you tripped,
chuckled as you fell,
and applauded while you wept.

Still—there is nothing softer than your heart
except for your soul sad with tears.

And I shall find you when you are lost,
love you when you are lonely,
and lift your heart up in spirit so you know—

You will always have the key—

To mine.

Charles Coakley Simpson


The Memory

tumblr_m9e8xy0vdJ1rpm5rmo1_500a

 

 

 

The Memory

I had thought to capture the moment,
However fragile. However fleeting.
And feel it move between the palms of my hands.
Soft and silent, like a moth.
With wings fluttering–yet frightened.
as it searches for light–
Within the darkness of my skin.

 

Charles Coakley Simpson


Feathers

tumblr_medt1rcQYl1rrgft7o1_500

 

 

 

Feathers

When I hear    the sound
of sadness.     And the light     is broken
by the silence.    Of the trees.
I know    all the birds      have flown     Away.
Their wings like words     whispering
Your     name

Charles Coakley Simpson


After the Rain

tumblr_mlm5ntk2Nh1s4958xo1_500

 

 

 

After the Rain

When once tears did fall–
that we were embraced by the joy of intimacy,
and yet the deluge which befalls us now
is not for the want we have of holding each other still,
but that we never held each other
Enough

Charles Coakley Simpson


Rafters

tumblr_mfjbh2jKD61qg0kk9o1_500

 

 

 

Rafters

What was the elevation of my heart,
except that it rode on the wings of your words.
And yet there was no “good” in goodbye that we said good night
when all I ever needed to hear you say was–
“I love you.”

Charles Coakley Simpson


Mistress

tumblr_lrdn10YAvV1qim75wo1_400

 

 

 

Mistress

My comfort does lie not
in the compassion of your companionship,
even as I lay the weight of my heart on your shoulder,
but in the deep knowledge of the promise
that you will never say
“I love you.”

Charles Coakley Simpson


Cold

223764_189873534410030_100001621533929_515940_493488_n

 

 

Cold

Even in the distance I can feel you pull away
as the warmth is fading from my arms.
And yet I am embraced by this tender despair–I love you still.
Powerfully. Passionately. Painfully.
The things you say. The things you do. The way you move.
Thus it is only in my heart where time stands still
and I am left to ponder how long it will be
until you miss me

Charles Coakley Simpson


The Catharsis of Love

adsfasdf

 

 

 

The Catharsis of Love

Have we been any less loving—than kind?
When it was love we wanted, there was no love to give,
and yet when there was love to give–it was not the love we wanted.
Thus the love we receive is no more than–
The love we deserve

Charles Coakley Simpson


The Hole in Your Heart

tumblr_m6yc6ufkrs1rzy4rvo1_500

 

 

 

 

The Hole in Your Heart

I never told you–
how easy you were to love;
will you forgive me?

Charles Coakley Simpson

 


The Dead

c61

The Dead

Lying in the cold-hard bed, he waits for sleep to take him.

The snow falls quietly outside his window and yet the night is filled with the sounds of darkness–a lover’s quarrel, the alibi of a passing train, the shriek and cry of a forgotten child, and still he lies there waiting—waiting for sleep to take him, a name sitting voicelessly on his lips.

And in the shadows he longs for her touch. He imagines her beside him–face shrouded in the half-light; the sheets delicately forming the line of her hip.  She lies in silence beneath his watch–silent like the edge of night where the wind is still and the trees do not speak.

His heart trembles to be next to her. His eyes follow the nakedness, climbing the curve of her spine, crossing the breadth of her shoulders, and pressing his lips gently into the crescent of her throat he remembers how her kisses used to taste like moonlight and mercy.

And the snow continues to fall quietly–scurrying down the empty streets, huddling into the darkened doorways, covering the green fields where the trees used to fly up to the birds and still he lies there waiting–waiting for sleep to take him–to where the lilacs bloom.

The clock chimes madly in the darkness.

Charles Coakley Simpson