Sunday Confession, Part VI

I miss you.
It comes on like a mellow wave over my mind
as I drive down the highway.
The sky is black against blue-black and Heart is belting out
a song of love and lost-love.
You still exist but you are dead in my soul.

The letters were fun; our meetings were stimulating, scary.
Living with you was hell.
But the touching, the raw flesh against raw flesh,
soul against soul
that's what I miss the most.

My heart leaps in my throat when I think of you.
You weren't any good for me, I know.
But the times I was angry at you are easily forgotten
with a mind that feels and doesn't think.
And that's where I am
when the highway stretches before me and the sky is
black on blue-black.

--S. Kaye, 1987

Of note: Ironically, one of the reasons a battered woman stays in an abusive relationship is for the love of the abuser. She may love the the nice guy within her Dr. Jekkyl/Mr. Hyde abuser and always hopes that the loving side returns. She may love the man she originally met who has since turned on her. What she doesn't love, however, is the abuse itself, and this often drives her to leave the man she loves. This poem was dedicated to all those women who have left their abusers with love still in their hearts. (Written by S. Kaye in 1987)

This stormy photo is compliments of M. Huffman. Thanks so much!

Today's Weather Report: a balmy 30 degrees with melting run-off from the roof. Bright sunshine. Nothing could be finer. . .