The Windows of My Soul: Loss/Yet (#100)

Loss/Yet (#100)
© Brenda
June 10, 1974


There are no lips
To kiss me
My fingertips
My toes.

There are no eyes
That lingering
Ravish me
Drink from mine.

There are no arms
To hold me
Demanding arms
Gentle arms.

There are no hands
That tremble
Touch my face
Caress my hair.

There is no voice
I love you
Night or day

There is only


I am married
To a man
A busy man
An angry man.

He uses me
To bring release
Hurting, hating
Discarding me.

I’ve lost my youth
My innocence
Without ever knowing
Love or trust.

He’s too immature
To let me in
Too insecure
To be my friend.

What can I do
With such a man
A marriage
That has never been.

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