Waiting for The Elation

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Waiting,
Forever waiting
For the elation
You promised to bring.
The promise you made
To pay the bearer
Of this broken heart.
I didn’t want diamonds,
Never asked for money or gold
For they won’t keep me safe from the cold,
But you promised a kiss.

But you left me
Waiting,
Forever waiting
For the elation
You promised to bring.
Waiting for you
To pay the bearer
Of this broken heart
With a kiss.
 
© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally Published 26 April 2017

Nomad

photo credit: Eduardo Amorim No rastro do sol via photopin (license)

With daybreak, I cry another tear.
Yet it is like all the tears I’ve cried before.
It makes no difference
This is still a desert
In which I struggle to exist.
This is still a dust bowl
That stretches from dawn to bitter dusk.
So I journey on until the day ends
And the sun starts to set.
When my heart is broken anew,
Because I’m still waiting for you.

© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

The Fix

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I’m a lover, not a fighter
But I’m always fighting,
Fighting to fix
This broken heart.
But love keeps tearing,
Ripping it apart.

But I won’t give up
I’ll just keep searching;
Searching for the fix
For mending a broken heart.

© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Notions

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I’m glad my pain amuses you,
I’m glad my distress keeps you warm.
I’m glad my feelings of inadequacy
Kept you entertained on the night of the storm.

I’m secretly pleased that you enjoyed my disease
That you found them of use, the experiments on my body and soul.
That you could view with scholarly detachment
The dissection of my brain by the scavenger crows.

I’m glad all my notions and twisted emotions
Merited a footnote in the book of your life.
I’m happy for you, that you found someone new.
But the scars that I bear were caused by you and your knife.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Body Language

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Lingering glances
Towards the door
Through which
You are aching to leave.

I want you to stay
But I’ve seen the signs.
Never again
Will you be aching for me.
 
© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Over You

And here to wrap up this month of looking back with a poem about not being able to leave the past behind …

Made of sticks and stones

photo credit: Giuseppe Milo (www.pixael.com) Staring at sunset – Skerries, Ireland – Color street photography via photopin(license)

I cannot cry no more
Because of all the tears
I’ve cried before,
Because of the oceans I’ve wept
Down to the very depths.
I can’t spend any more time,
Pennies or heartbeats
Over you.
Because that will leave me bankrupt
And I can’t risk another heartbreak
Just yet
When I’m not ready to be
Over you.
 
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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Destination Unknown

For November 18 here’s a poem about distance and ever increasing silences

Made of sticks and stones

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How did we end up with so much distance
Between you and I? Between what we were
And what we’ve become. Gaping silences
Now divide us, where once laughter united.

There was a time I’d have driven for miles
To bask in the glory of a half-smile.
Now I just wonder, how did we end up
With so much distance between you and I?
 
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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How I Wish You Were Here

photo credit: Natalia Medd Summer Camouflage via photopin (license)

Wish you happiness,
Wish you content,
I wish you everything you’ve ever wished for.
But I wish, how I wish,

Wish you luck and joy,
Wish you success,
More of everything your heart desires.
So many wishes for more.

Wish you no more tears
To cry. No sorrows;
And I wish, how I wish, to protect you from harm.
I’m wishing you were near…

But instead
I’m wishing you goodbye…
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

The Loving Words

 

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Spinning infinity,
Planets collide.
I loved you once
But that hope died.
The stars align,
The signs are red.
But the loving words
Remained unsaid.
Celestial object
In my sky.
I wanted love
But you made me cry.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Unkempt

My emotions have become tangled;
My heart choked with weeds
And creepers of ivy squeeze,
Making it hard to breathe,
As they twist and turn growing
In and out of my lungs.
At times I forget how to feel
As I reel, buffeted by the dance of the wind.
This is what has become of me
Blinded by a vision of seeing a life
Without you.

© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.