Wordle #164 – Sweet Torture

I thought I could climb out of this sadness.  I tried to abdicate this relationship, once again.  It’s been so up and down, I feel the pangs of guilt, thinking this is my fault.  I am not the married one.  I am the lover, a figure of disgust and ridicule. I never thought I would be in this position, but I am dictated by my heart.

Four times we have been in this place, four times we have stopped, with broken hearts.  We wait, but seem compelled to try again.  If this was written as a play, it would be a tragedy.  Our love would perish, could not withstand another parting.  No matter how vague the solution, we can’t give up, as if  sipping nepenthe each time we think we can go on without the other. The pain of separation increases with each ending.

Our lives are sallow reminders of what we dream them, want them, to be, on the offhand chance, the fantasy, they might come true.  We can’t give in or give up.  Even though it is sweet torture, we stay. Then part again, try to live without each other, then reappear when one of us cannot stand the loneliness, the lovelessness, any longer.


6 thoughts on “Wordle #164 – Sweet Torture

  1. thanks for playing the wordle 🙂 – great use of the words in setting the tones and capturing the essences of pain, struggle and all that can walk hand in hand with love relationships.


  2. The sweet smell of a great sorrow lies over the land
    Plumes of smoke rise and merge into the leaden sky
    A man lies and dreams of green fields and rivers
    But awakes to a morning with no reason for waking
    He’s haunted by the memory of a lost paradise
    In his youth or a dream, he can’t be precise
    He’s chained forever to a world that’s departed
    It’s not enough, it’s not enough
    His blood has frozen and curdled with fright
    His knees have trembled and given way in the night
    His hand has weakened at the moment of truth
    His step has faltered
    One world, one soul
    Time pass, the river roll
    And he talks to the river of lost love and dedication
    And silent replies that swirl invitation
    Flow dark and troubled to an oily sea
    A grim intimation of what is to be
    There’s an unceasing wind that blows through this night
    And there’s dust in my eyes, that blinds my sight
    And silence that speaks so much louder than words
    Of promises broken

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