Nothing More

There were two hearts,
Two eyes who began
To beat as one

And always were one —
Many  noticed 
But the wrong people
Also noticed

Enough doubt
Enough gossip
Enough accusations implied

Create a fantasy -
An ugly painting of lies

When all tthe two needed
Was to love each other.

Enough hate
Despised as piety
Caused enough doubt
Enough hesitation 
For her to forgive another 
Realizing they’re late in life

And she needed the fantasy
That he did not  purchase her
And had her wrapped in the
Expensive perfume 
Of class stratification 

And denial

At the foot of the cross.

He’ll do  what he does
Until he tires with age

And at night
She’ll snuggle next to him

And she’ll have him,
Cherish him
And adore him.

Her heart is his.
They’ll sleep softly
And comfortably 
While he swallows some pill

That makes him
Feel superior 
Vibrating in balance
And the silky touch
Of her skin

And she clings 
To his chest
While he holds his gift
Reminded  of  Pastor 
Joel’s talk of how

God favors the righteous

And he is righteous 
So God  provided
And has  given him
The one he bought 

For he is blessed.

But the one
Who would die 
Happily her 
Has given up.

He is tired
Of not having
There’s no one
Right for him
Because while he
Is handsome 

Sincere, trustworthy 
And smart

She is comfortable.
The one next to her is from
The same town

There’s no need
To look elsewhere.

She slides 
Into a feathery theology
Of comfort 
And simple love

Because it’s 
Good for her
And she prays
In warmth 
And security 
For her soulmate 

Knowing that the last
Will be first 

But  her soulmate 
Believes in nothing 
Anymore.

He knows that 
The one who’s bought
The one he needs

Cuddles next to her
And is in heaven.

There is no point.
He’s retreating 
Into the peace he creates

Because he does 
Not have one 
To create with.

And the soul
He’d love to kiss 
Loves to create 
For another.

He is through.
He will hang on
And love all,

But his soul
Will not be 
Ru-united to hers —

The very reason
He chose
And she chose

To be born.

She’ll die
Surrounded by those 
She loves.

She stopped thinking
About her soulmate 
For God provided 
And supplies —

We cannot know
God’s loving ways.

Her soul mate
is always alone.

He tries to sleep
But is weeping
Into his pillow.

He no longer
Wants another.
He cannot die
Believing that 
Fatasy is reality.

He’ll  just ask 
The Angel of Death 
Too cary him 
Into the realization 
That there’s no angel of death
And that death is death,
Not a new beginning 
But the final ending.

And although he has
Paintings of angels
And talked to angels
Since he was  a lonely little boy

The man
Enjoying his chemically
Enhanced peace 
Caresses his angel

A blessing from God
That he knows
Was meant to be
His answer to prayer.

But it is  fantasy again.
Because he doesn’t deserve 
What he cannot afford 

So he stopped caring much.
He’ll be good to himself.

It will not suffice,

But one day
He’ll die

And not being
Is far better 
Than a lack of love
From  one
He needs.

Nothing more.

2.15.25

Richard Davis is a poet and artist in Woodstock, Illinois. He attended Garrett Evangelical Theological Seminary for se years and was ordained by a well known United Methodist minister and clinical psychologist, E Arthur Winkler, ThD, PhD.