La Douleur Exquise
the key hangs heavy in the lock,
a cold, familiar weight.
a room I built but cannot enter,
a feast laid out, too late.
beauty and pain,
presence and absence
exquisite ache
I trace your ghost
on windowpanes of frost.
the dark empty spaces,
counting all the stars we lost
moon lit longing gazes
beauty and pain,
presence and absence
exquisite ache
music plays a silent hiss,
a needle in the groove
lonely echoes of a flute
of every word we didn’t speak,
this ache I cannot remove
my poetry mute
beauty and pain,
presence and absence
exquisite ache
a bruise, I press to feel
the color of its purple bloom,
the sweetest hurt, the perfect wound,
pain reminds I am alive
this quiet, lovely, silent, lonely doom.
beauty and pain,
presence and absence
exquisite ache
not one signal, not one flare
unlit candles, vinegar wine
petals dropping, careless fall
humming in the void,
a melody of pure desire,
notes clash, bitter, off key
beauty and pain,
presence and absence
exquisite ache
I did not whisper, merely weep,
lament from my chest,
raw, soundless things to keep
hollow, my heart rests
the static, the rise, the fall,
this symphony of empty,
arms that lack
beauty and pain,
presence and absence
exquisite ache
the most exquisite pain of all
looking up, to you
never looking back.
beauty and pain,
presence and absence
exquisite ache
Thank you for reading. I appreciate your time. Many Blessings.
Dorie, you really said “heartache but make it couture,” huh?
The whole piece feels like walking into a velvet-dark room and bumping straight into feelings I wasn’t ready for.
Your “exquisite ache” is basically flirting with me at this point.
The way you let pain twirl around beauty like that—ugh, dangerous, I love it.
Keep writing like this and I’ll need emotional seatbelts next time~
Oh how lovely! This almost scans as lyrics…maybe I’ll get a song idea…not exactly something I have time for, but who knows that hasn’t stopped my fickle muse before 😂