I see her soft smile crushed— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —
and I feel her pain,
reproach in her embrace,
she says I should come back, why not?
I want my life to get better at each juncture,
going back to our marriage is not an advance.
Her tender smiles would turn to bitterness
and my dreams resign themselves to waiting, why?
She thinks my lovers are the main reason why I won’t return
and she doesn’t realize its more of one cloth.
That the cold mornings and lonely afternoons
are better now in my gut than our marriage could be.
When…I see her hurt, I hurt, but I’m unmoved
I love her and her presence in my life
but I’m no longer malleable
because of love.
If she could love me, as I am, I could love her, as I am
and it would all be enough, but…
until then the hours are filled
with pain and the pressure to change.
She never found me so unreachable
and she struggles to grasp my love
which springs free and independent of need
and I can only watch her pain
and love her even as she tries to change me.
gallagher
feb 02, 78
Archive for the ‘Rose’ Category
1978-02-02
Thursday, February 2nd, 19781978-02-25
Saturday, February 25th, 1978How dry the leaves and empty— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —
my first winter into the thirties
I could disappear without contact
be a person lost without love.
I’ve told Rose I won’t come back now
and the winter starts to blow,
I’ve told Rose I’d love to see her
but when she moves I know
she’ll take her summer laughter with her
and leave me here to grow.
She’ll take my love and son then
and leave me here to know
how dry the leaves…and empty
when the winter winds begin to blow
and alone and empty I am
as I begin to know…
But I chose these winter empty stomach days
and I chose the waiting for my life’s new phase
and lead me to the summer sunshine
where I’m bound to go.
gallagher
feb 25, 78
1978-03-13 The ides again
Monday, March 13th, 1978The ides again— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —
Brittle days these
between my lives, dying
her cries tear at me
and some days my own loneliness
mocks me.
I feel her pain,
the pain of love ripping out
by the roots.
Today I wake empty
and feel alone all day.
I want to be held,
and earlier line haunts me…
‘What wonderland jungle is this that I’ve chose
in exchange for the loving nearness of Rose.’
Today, I want to lean on someone
but Rose is packing her love away
and I can’t pay her price.
gallagher
mar 13, 78