Saving Grace

I was looking for your face
in the bar, in the dark
when my car was still a dream
and through, passing chairs and tables, I steamed into your unstable mind.

The kindest thoughts I had
stank of you, but who
and what do I know?
The kindest thought I had was overcoming this.

In some other lifetime, if you weren‘t there,
there would nothing to fear and no isolation.
This worthless tale is stale with the crisp, clear fisting of my heart
and apart, my dear, tastes much better - no defecation of my time.

I was looking for your face -
in the shit, in rubble and dust.
I’m still disgusted by your ways, the bubble of fate,
how easy it was to dissipate myself for you.

Your face is gone, I can’t remember it now, or why I searched for it.
Your parting is the oldest talk
and the walking, the stalking, remarking is a fable now.
A history of sadness.

Another history of sadness but

thank God for him.