in the kitchen, the hyacinth
finally begins to open, its fragrance
still subtle & not enough
to cover the bitter almond
april stain. we are eight days in,
now, & you go better without
me every hour. I don’t know
if the herons will come back;
I should have remembered how it felt
to sleep beside you unwanted.
this is the second poem this morning;
it goes well with burnt espresso.
every hour there is less of me
to love, but at least it is my choosing.
-
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the tenth muse 
Wow!
So poignant!
Thanks, dahling! Bittersweet. 🙂
If only there were another word like “beautiful” but…without the u and i…
Ineffably sad…
Ron
Thank you, Ron. I feel like you should write a poem on that premise…
Excellent – the last two lines really change the feel of this. Great!
Gracias, friend Mosk. It’s a hard lesson there in those lines.
Awesome. Great emotion, or lack of emotion. Lowercase does it justice as well.
Thanks. I have a penchant for lowercase. 🙂