She pressed her hand
against my cheek,
looked softly into my eyes,
but was not able to muster
a smile.

It was her last attempt,
a final effort to find
what was lost.

Nothing was there.

She could not longer
pretend love was enough
when belief and faith
in the man was absent.

There was no look back,
no hesitation,
as she closed the door
behind her.

The scent of her skin
and the sensation of it’s
feel upon mine,
lingered but a moment,
to be replaced by
the stench of fear
and the touch of

My death imagined as life goes on

My death imagined as life goes on (Photo credit: Pickersgill Reef)








At dVerse, Stu has asked us to expound upon fear…



Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

10 responses to “Gone

  1. a devastatingly sad story, well written…

  2. fug man….it would be brutal for my wife to leave…i dont know how much of an existence it would really be after you know…

  3. ugh…losing someone you love or once loved feels a bit like death indeed..

  4. Sometimes our hearts must face a kind of ‘death’ , until life circles round to birth hope (and perhaps love again). It does not make the experience any easier, even if we know this to be true in our soul. Yeah, fear of love lost, that a part of ourselves is dead and will never live again, I totally get this. Well penned.

  5. So sad and poignant – to be there one moment and not the next.

  6. poemsofhateandhope

    yeah…this is scary one for sure….if my wife was to leave…damn…im not sure i would want to feel those fears, those feelings, this was ABRASIVE, and i didn’t like where it took me (which means this poem is GREAT)

  7. ..tis a death of something that once lived…a relationship..

  8. My favorite:
    “a final effort to find
    what was lost.
    Nothing was there.”

    In the last stanza, “it’s” should be “its.”

    • even I am amazed at the stupid mistakes I can make some times….

      Thanks for all of the comments. It is always fun when you catch up all at once.

      Life is a bit of a madhouse at the moment, so involvement, commenting, posting etc is likely to be a bit erratic. But I shall try to pop in as often as I can. (as if I could stay away 🙂 ).

  9. Mark, This is a stunning, and frightening poem.

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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