Anhedonia [poetry collection]

my lover is dead

Maybe, just maybe; my lover is dead.
Maybe, just maybe.
Maybe the lover I dream of; the lover I write to;
Is merely a feeling, a hovering soul I'm drawn to.
It leaves prints on my heart, it pulls the strings of my limbs.
In the ballroom of my mind, he draws me into his arms as I spin.
This feeling follows me around;
it quiets my mind and showers me with a devoting sound.
I smile at the image of him; his body nowhere to be seen.
My aching soul comes to life; suddenly so keen.
Like an autumn wind he brushes my hair, and covers the wounds from which I bled;
Maybe, just maybe; my lover is dead.

The feeling of comfort, the feeling of hope;
Maybe it's not my consience; maybe it's my saving rope.
He's there when I fall into my deep maze of thoughts;
He puts my mind at ease; in his embrace I get lost.
I write to him in silence, yet my heart sings loudly;
I know my lover will cradle me in my daydream fondly.
He's my anchor, my last spark of faith;
Something too surreal to grasp; to explain.
In the dark of the night, he shields me from dread;
Maybe, just maybe; my lover is dead.

The destroyer; the saboteur of love;
I find my own shelter; the love I secretly crave.
The image; the idea of his human form;
Might bring me sorrow and the urge to cause a storm.
The firmness of his body, the aftertaste of his touch;
Might cause me to fearfully run away and fall into a clutch.
But in my mind, my lover hovers; singing a distant tune;
Caressing my freezing skin, watching me from far away like the moon.
Dreaming of his soothing words brings me comfort; less if it was really said;
Maybe, just maybe; my lover is dead.

I beg in my mind for him to arrive.
Everything in my life shall be set aside;
Yet when I see my lover walking into my little life;
I push his body far away from me; cutting him with words sharp as a knife.
If it's not real, if it's not human to grasp and
keep;
There's no fear in seeing my lover leave.
I close my eyes and find him welcoming me with his warm embrace;
There, in that moment, there's no pain to face.
I treasure his gentle words and touch in my head;
Maybe, just maybe; I wish my lover is dead.