In the Presence of Wolves

 My schedule was once filled

with dates to see your face,

but that has long since passed

as you make them erase.

Of your priorities

I know I’m bottommost

And when I wait for you

I light candles for a ghost.

You have no time for me;

“important” things come up.

I wait in futile hope

past the rays of sunup.

I know I make no sense – 

insane – so say the most,

but I can’t help myself.

I light candles for a ghost.

Our tickets are not punched.

Dinners go uneaten.

Weary chess is played here.

You will not be beaten.

Maybe I am dumbstruck.

With you I am engrossed.

How many fools would stay

to light candles for a ghost?

One more full-pledged promise;

this one you’ll surely keep.

Could you really fail me

another time this week?

To wait would make you glad;

to please you is my post,

but in my heart I know

I light candles for a ghost.

 I come to thee from shadowed mars

Twixt booted land and boreal stars.

My tongue derived from Latin song,

I pray for thee in nights drawn long.

An olive touch can offer guide,

A heart unarmed from selfish pride.

These Moorish eyes can be deceived – 

By thee how will I be received?

 I wish you would have given me

black eyes and broken ribs

instead of broken promises

and honest little fibs.

     Then maybe I could hate you;

     then maybe I could see

     you’re lemon to a paper cut

     and squeeze fresh blood from me.

I wish that you would die in vain – 

the hero that you chose – 

and die a quick and painless death

dressed in your soldier’s clothes.

     Then maybe you would vanish;

     then maybe you’d be gone.

     I’d grieve and then be rid of you,

     be able to move on.

I wish you would return to me

and pick up where we were

before you left to fight the war,

the choice you most preferred.

     Then maybe I could leave you;

     then maybe you’d leave me.

     Either way would not be limbo – 

     my tears would not run free.