Adieu. Alas! Adieu.

“Adieu. Alas! Adieu.”

Do I always miss you?
Or do I only miss the pain?
When I give my love to you,
I know I give my love in vain.
And while I feel I can’t accuse you,
I feel I’m not the only one to blame.
Adieu. Alas! adieu.

Deep in your eyes, I saw you were weary
With that sickness you’ve learned to carry.
And I see your eyes now, that familiar stare
When I look for you, and no one is there.
The hours are empty, and I can feel their weight.
But if I filled them with your voice, would it be too late?
I can hear you, that melody that I would slumber on,
But when I turn to find you, that sacred beauty is gone.
In a silent room where sleep is not welcome,
I know the truth that I am hiding from.
It is that I feel you in the softness of a whisper
At my side, where you never really were.

Adieu. Alas! adieu.
There is a flower for every grave you’ve put me in.
I was gladly buried as I’ve always been
So happy to feel love so filled with pain—
It was the prize. It was all I hoped to gain:
To be enslaved in a bliss that would help me die
Every time I said, “I love you” for no reply.
I was happy then. I longed to be of use…
And these seeds bore such strange fruits
Just to see you smile while my fever rose
In the life I desperately chose,
Just to see you smile long enough
To believe that it was love.
Adieu. Alas! adieu
Adieu. Alas! adieu.

© 2022 Marten Hoyle