Whispers cling like shame
To the tormented state of my mind;
I am alone, yet you are with me.
I wake to the sound of your whispers.
Your sweet, aching words of timeless unspent
Passion dance in ghostly monotones.
You do not know how much I miss you.
Left to myself, left in the pit,
I am covered in mud. I am surrounded,
Offered only gladiatorial recompense.
For love, I suffer.
In love, I walked into the arena
And laid my soul before the hungry beasts.
Fight, fight, fight…the words were loud,
My heart louder still--beating a terrible rhythm
In my chest. I did fight,
Like a good Roman entertaining the crowd.
The beasts bit deep, and I clung to life,
To you…I still do. This is a fight I cannot win,
Yet I still cling, like your whispers in my mind.
*
This poem appears in my collection, "Immortality Lives...Embracing Poetry in a New Age."
I met Jerome on a busy city street in Baltimore, Maryland, when he was forty-five years old. On that particular day, I was out and about, enjoying a much-needed day off from work.
I wanted to purchase a sukiyaki sub. I parked my car in an area of
Eight e-books regarding Pathological Narcissism, relationships with abusive
narcissists and psychopaths, and the Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD).
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