I wish I could grieve for you

but you are a fading memory,

a ghost that still breathes

and whose profligate, reckless heart

still beats somewhere…

 

still, against his ribcage and in such a way

that each time I hear it

deep down in my D.N.A. I experience

an anger unbecoming

for what you have done

and the dark seeds of despair find a way

to nestle and take root

uncontrolled and unregulated

as I remember all that is between us,

blood and soul,

and yet

I miss you always.

 

You never learned,

how could you,

a product of a society

that saw greed as good,

as a king to be lauded

and the wasteful search for the modern

Shilling a rumour as the grand rolls past…

 

Of course I miss you,

why would I not,

but the blame you placed on me

in the subtext each day now makes

me think you might be better

off gone,

so I can grieve properly

and with a tear

finally shed.

 

Ian D. Hall 2015.