One Spring Day

The wind carries away her gentle sigh, unheard
As his fingers play softly with her golden hair
The young boy stares wondrously at the lustful pair
His faith in them is as always, undeterred
The love from the child is frequently undeserved
Brown hair which caresses his beautiful eyes
Smiles that emerge no matter how much he cries
This day in his mind will be forever preserved
As he stood there at that last love joy intersection
And watched as the man came gun in hand
He pointed, screamed, shot, two dead
Grasping each other in undying affection
Stolen watches, wallets, and a wedding band
And tears which intermingled as the blood started to spread

Cancer

Its sound is as always, disgusting.
The incontrollable bought of nausea and fear
That follows is as always, painfully real.
One word, two syllabus.
First part sounds like death.
Sometimes the scar still hurts
The little white line,
That mingles there amid the creases,
Gifts from midnight feedings.
The cancer is as always, terrifying.

Depression

You speak of your depression as though it is a disease
As though there is a cure for your misery.
You attempt to tell me that your sadness is yours,
Not mine.
That it is not my fault that I fail you over and over
Leaving you desiring a clean house,
Dinner made and on the table,
A wife, naked and willing on the bed.
Your depression is treated with pills,
Happiness in capsule form,
Viagra for your broken heart.
Depression is the mask you wear
As though your hatred for me
Can be easily disguised.

Dying

The taste is acidic,
No matter the why.
Ever since that first taste
Death has been an acid,
Eating away
At this spot between my shoulders
That no man can ever touch,
A constant companion
Screaming in my ear
The frailty of man.
There is always this fear of it,
This unexplainable, definite nature
That is independent of time or reason.
And there sits death in his spot,
That spot that no man can touch,
And I watch the hole grow larger
As you begin to fill it.