Cruel Impossible Love

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Wonder in youth
now old in regret
decide. I will never
find my perfect other.
Thinking herself happy 
or sad, still lost
never able to find me
nor me her.

Wife, a mother alone
maybe,  given up long
ago the hopeless search
for her perfect other me.
Did she find solace in
just making do?
Forging contentment
as so many before.

Wild flowers countless
meadows fill.  Unique
beauty, each smell a heaven.
So alike are we, individual
In flawed perfection.  Emotional
sentient beings no two
a thumb print, save the
one will never find.

Certainty in middle years
feeling you close.
Foolish daydreams,
now cynical older sees truth.
Dull the years, death closer,
fate set sure in failure.

Perfect other, symbiotic
light to shade mirror cast.
Two halves never a whole.
A mapless journey,
Indefatigable unknown my
search.  Wasted agony.
One for each of us
No more
Cruel impossible
Love.

◄ Seahorse

Mother's Autumn ►

Comments

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Lynn Dye

Wed 15th May 2013 22:37

Hi Richard, great poem, I enjoyed this.

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Jon

Wed 15th May 2013 11:22

Great poem Richard,sad/heartbreaking but full of depth and experience.

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