My heart grieves.
Soon we will be separate. No longer one, under man’s law.
Will God always see us as one? I suppose so. I will.

I am torn between the loving and the hating.
I still love you but hate the situations we let take over our love.
Now what? We have put conditions on each other that are unattainable.
Both set in our ways, you in your “built on a rock” world and me in my brand new butterfly wings, seem to have gone our separate ways.

Yet, when we do let our hearts have reign and talk honestly, the familiarity is good and the longing to stay together is there; but my need to fly and your need to stay attached to the source of your nourishment pulls us apart and away from each other.

My quicksilver spirit seems to never stay in one place long enough anymore to know what is the real need of my being. Your staid and steady spirit never seems to waver in what your needs are. We are fire and water. Where is the balance or more properly can there be a balance between the two of us? I am quick to burn and you are worn-out and tired of having to dowse my fires. You are quick to extinguish my flames of enthusiasm and I am tired and worn out from constantly feeling like I am wrong to feel this fire in me.

I never intended on finding anyone else when this separation came to be. There is only one love of your life like we had and I do not intend to be hurt again by love. I have very neatly built my brick walls around my heart. I have thrown away hammer and chisel. Don’t come near me with those tools for my wings will carry me away from the danger of the wall being torn down.

My heart grieves. My heart is broken. I will patch it up again and I will protect it this time from being hurt if at all possible. It is full of scar tissue from the losses of my loved ones by death. There is scar tissue from decisions and circumstances for which I begged God’s intervention. There is scar tissue because I love too deeply. There is scar tissue because I believed in and trusted myself at times and I failed. There is scar tissue upon scar tissue and my heart can stand no more.

I guess we go our separate ways. I wish we could have been more of what the other needed. I wish we could have defined those needs better. Then perhaps we would not be here today standing on the precipice of the future wondering what went wrong in the past. Yes, I will always love you, and my heart grieves for what was and what might have been.

Last night I slept in the arms of loneliness
Head resting on emptiness.

(No one kissed my lips goodnight…
Fitful dreams of a ghost lover
Dancing on a mountaintop.)

Tunes of wind chimes time has borrowed
Fated by the love’s long gone tomorrow
I awaken to my old friend sorrow.

I am faithful to this eidolon lover’s essence
Who haunts me by his non-presence.

(He once upon a timeless age
Loved me and needed me with a passion
Unsurpassed only by my need for him.)

He holds me nightly in arms that are not there.
Kisses me softly with a breath of air.
I run my fingers through his misty hair.

Forgiveness … my soul seeks its light.
But, it eludes me from dawn to night.

(Darkness covers me with a cloak of black.
My ghostly lover returns to hold me once more
In his arms of total emptiness.)

To remind me of kisses that have never been,
And of his fingertips not touching my skin,
This poet who never writes of me with his passionate pen.

Two archers dance among
The endless stars of heaven.
One a straight shooter and on target.
The other aimlessly shoots into the night sky
Not caring who his cognac flavored words hurt,
Not caring whose heart the arrow strikes.

Welcome to the spectrum of the world of archers,
The giving and the taking, yet both in need,
The forgiver and unforgiving caught wanting.
Midnight murmurs sing in the strings of their bows.
A struggle to find their own light.
A universe apart in feelings of heart and soul.

The archers’ dance, now a battle, ends in a stalemate.
One, with arrow poised to shoot again, excitement rising.
Whose heart will the arrow pierce in his dark world?
While, lost to darkness of the new moon,
The other seeks the light with arrows neatly
Tucked into her quiver.

Left to languish between reality and nirvana
She is lost to the vexation of lust.
Sought, but, unwanted, unneeded.
Another waste of time and effort?
Wisdom of a strong fortress– not a wasted lesson, but,
Learned anew at the expense of an already scarred heart.

I read not just your words
But the words of all those
Who long for you to touch them.
And I ache for them, and for me.

I could point out all�
This one, that one
The blonde, the brunette
Ah, yes and the red head.

Flirtations of late night gatherings
Lonely, disillusioned, disappointed
Souls seeking�not love�but
Acceptance.

Flirtations for a nanosecond of life,
Then deciding they require too much effort,
Dropped, and the one dropped�aching,
Longing for that validation you gave so briefly.

I think it is the shape of your lips…
Mesmerizing me, causing me
To long for them pressed on my lips…
On my body.

I spend hours convincing my conscious self
There can be no romance, no love, no soul mating
Between our two spirits.
I once again settle for friendship.

Then I dream of you.
Your lips excite me to a sensual height
I have never approached before…and
Wonder if I ever really will.

I think it may be your hands.
I long for them to touch to my cheek
Running your fingers through my hair
And down my arms.

Your touch is mine in dreams
But cannot be real … there is too much distance
In miles and in your needs and in your wants.
Could I ever fulfill your desires?

I think it may be your mind
So quick in thought and words
You pull people to you, scare them away
With your mind…I don’t scare easily.

I choose to delve deeper into your mind
To see the beauty, the sensuousness and
The humor that lies imbedded deep
In the pain and hurt from the past.

I think it may be your body.
Envisioning you fresh from a shower
With water drops on your hair
Glistening in the candlelight.

I think it may be your eyes.
They sparkle with a mischievous gleam
While at times clouded with pain.
Always swirling with passion when looking at me.

Watching you, and smiling in my dreams
I wait for the lips, the hands, the mind
Your eyes swirling in their blue passion
My arms reach to welcome you to my soul again.

I hold my breath
And fall into your words.
Floating through a sea
Of poetry.

My soul is filled with fire,
Pain, love, emotions and
Sensuality given by you
To the world.

I touch the very bottom,
Depths of sorrow
Then rise to the height of joy.
My breath bubbles out.

Plunging in again
I breathe in the watercolors
Of life, death and love.
Spirits meet in a water dance.

I rest now in the arms
Of this ocean of words.
A gentle rocking of peaceful waves
Lull me to contentment.

A riptide phrase catches me
And pulls me out past the breakers
To the deeper meanings,
And I drown in your utterances.

Your poetry pulls me to the deep,
Dark blue of the ocean’s depths.
To the color of all the creatures
You use to paint your word pictures.

It is happening again
This pain….this rage
I find you only to lose you.

I am the eternal friend.
I breathe, I love, I write, I rage.
How many times?

You come into my world
Then move on to another
Leaving me to rage on.

I try to write
I end up with tears
Etching “fool” on my face.

My heart aches
My head thumps
My days are lonely and long.

The music plays and you are here.
We play the game of laughter
While inside I rage.

I want to throw my pen
And pitch my coffee at the wall,
But no one should ever know.

My feelings are mine to hide.
Silence is the only way
To deal with this love and rage.

Wash the hurt away.
Your waves of healing
Cleanse me as I walk
Among the raindrops.

I smell the fresh green
Of the grass and trees
Mother earth, hold me
While I pray for rain.

By Beverly Cash Jacobs
© March 29, 2009

I stand on the precipice
Looking into your world.
I want to scream…I am here.

Shall I go up higher where the eagle flies,
To the freedom and wonders
Of the wind?

Shall I venture down to the valley
With the flowers in all their beauty and splendor?
Beauty in the depths.

Scraping fingernails on walls
Long ago built
I shiver at the scraping sounds.

Trying to find a door
That leads to you and warmth
I would even accept coldness.

The eagle calls and soars
Hunting for what it needs
Then taking without thought to costs.

It grabs the prey
With sharp talons and
Tears the heart out with one stab of the beak.

Flowers are tempting in their quiet.
Scented and with colors of the rainbow
They wait to be the chosen one.

Torn between the heights and valleys
I look into your world and scream, again,
With nothing left to do, but leap into your universe.

Where is that old memory?
Did I stash it in my picture box,
Or maybe under the bed
With all the dust bunnies,
The protectors of my dreams?

I looked in the attic,
Perused the library of my books,
Even checked the kitchen cabinets,
And refrigerator…been known to
Put things there that don’t belong.

I know it is here somewhere,
But, now I forget why I am looking.
It seemed so important for a while,
Seemed urgent to recall yesterday…
Where did I put that old memory of you?