what can I do now?
you’re gone

you are gone
from my side

the seat besides me stays empty
the bed grows cold
frozen
untouched

and nothing else
I do
will ever be enough
to fill this space

it’d be so much easier if I could just not think
not think
but I do,
I do

and this is all my fault
you’re gone,
gone


By Sara
written October 8th,2006.

Poetry Tag

I was at Poets Who Blog when I saw this post:

It's a game of poetry tag. Be the first to post TAG in the comments. Then take these lines and add one, in a post on your own blog, along with these instructions. Whoever adds the nineteenth line then takes the poem to Poets Who Blog at http://poetswhoblog.blogspot.com/ and puts the whole poem in the comment section there. Each person who plays need to also mention what site you were at when you found the poem so that other bloggers can follow the breadcrumbs back to this poem. You can play more than once but not twice in a row.


Poetry Tag Poem

The sound shook his bones
like a cymbal


My line is the second one. Tag me and you can be the person who writes the third line.

teetering precariously,

this
heart in me
clings to your confession-
my water in the desert,
my oxygen on the moon.

who could have known?
who knew?

mere breaths from dying
and then there was




you.

You weakness sickens me.
Such a pretty girl
wasted.

The lines in your face
aging
away your youth every second.

How do you stand it?
Can't you feel the air getting thin?
Time giving in?

Next year, next year....

I promise the face in my mirror.

I will do better next year.

when you are eighteen, you think like this.

you brought me to the edge of free-
a tattered soul,
incomplete-

and for your price you asked for
absolution.


it wasn’t much.
it wasn’t hard.
you were a floating vagabond
who prayed that I could be your

solution.


I was spinning- hard and fast-
against myself,
against my past,
but somehow you....

you never knew it.


young
free
you
me


just starting a revolution.

revolution.
revolution.

Times were good but we.....we never knew it.



By Sara Pufahl with thanks to Rob and The Writer's Island for the prompt: The Journey.