A Mending…

Not just in this moment,
Nor hour,
Nor day…

Could he avoid
The pain.

It infused
His life,
His very being.

Her leaving,
Though no surprise,
Cut through him,
Opening his emotional flesh,
Cleaved from his heart.

Nothing…

Could provide the balm.

His wounds…

Simply bled.

Bled his anguish for her…

Bled his constant sadness…

Bled his lost
And confused soul…

Never to understand,
And consume again,

Love

From that perfect woman.

All he could hope for,
And long for,
And pray for,

Was to meet another.

The right one.

The one for whom
He would wholly commit
All of his being.

Not simply a partner,
But the finish
To his partial life,
Incomplete,
Without her joining.

She was out there,
Somewhere.

He just needed
To fight
For his breath…

And the chance
To meet her.

And with this
Serendipity,

Hope,

For healing…

A new love’s magic touch,

Delicate embrace,

And for his heart…

A mending.

 

 

© 2018 W. C. Stacia, Jr.

4 thoughts on “A Mending…

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