Brandon K. Nobles – Josephine

The absence of the flowered smell,
hovered in the air:
above the chair, now vacant, where-
Josephine, her brunette hair,
her absence is a presence there,
the cigarette smoking ghost.
The words, the tenderness, and the notes,
the motes of dust dance in the smoke.

Unspoken words, how sweet the tone,
soft as the grass of dew soaked dawn–
where often we together walked,
smoked our cigarettes and talked,
and that, the touch, the warm caress,
is gone:
How awful for a man in love,
to sleep with his jeans on.

Lying there awake he thought,
of trasured moments that he lost
The sound a kiss makes, can’t be told;
the sound a pen cannot express,
the warmth, the breath, upon the neck.
At the table, tears they stole:
over the cheek-bone and into the bowl.

How awful for a man in love,
to go to sleep still dressed.
To toss and turn, to look above,
and never get to rest.
And in the vision on the ceiling
was at last complete:
his angel wrapped in satin sheets.
Who long ago had left the bed unmade-
and there he laid, with greasy hair,
his face unshaved.
And languished on the couch all day.

How terrible for that same man,
who knelt before a candle stand,
absence is a presence,
and sometimes stronger than,
the feeling of a fluttering heart,
the joy of holding hands–
It can be more powerful,
than anything you can see,
the stars the way they dance at night,
the gardens in the spring.

The absence of the changeling hope,
the bringer of despair.
As he was walking up the stairs,
he met someone who wasn’t there.
And like an addict, who in vain hopes,
he prays:
for his misery to be assuaged:
to hear that voice, to see that face;
In the heart there is a place,
where the blossoms of a romance blooms:
in the foyeur of an empty room.

The things you miss, when you’re alone,
over and over playing that song-
even though not comfortable,
together on the couch,
he’d sleep on a bed of nails,
to sleep with her right now.

To miss her is too long, to need,
a letter, call, or anything;
Without the rhythm of the gentle breathing,
it is quite hard to sleep.
Every fault that has been found,
is cherished when you’re not around.
It’s hard to see, to know how come–
you thought the zero was the one.

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