all copyrights by Ronaye Hudyma. all rights reserved

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Acerbic  words sting,

 assail the air;

hurled  like a dagger with a jab to the heart. 

Fatal blows swift and sure catch me by surprise…     

I cannot breathe.                           

Your barbed tongue maims,

slices  through the tender threads of trust and        

when the curtain falls, you feel nothing. 

Of course.

I was fodder for your senses, consumed then forgotten

No investment. No expense.

Being without me is a reprieve, a temporary Fast — no snacks, no sugar.

Yet you to me were love without restraint

 sustenance for the soul

and the bonds that did bind me were not of chains–

 but a river of ribbons flowing throughout my existence.

After a taste of the Infinite, being without you  is death by starvation.

Now Both of us are confined to our corners

of opposite sides

where never the two shall meet.



 The sun sulks, eclipsed,

 denying us another day.

In a series of silent nights,

a fluorescent moon hovers overhead, 

our eye in the sky…


then blown aside by winds of ire

from stirring Giant on high.    


Timid raindrops crawl across a telephone wire

like cautious children anticipating a slide…


as the heavens unfold pounding its wrath upon us– 

angry thunder in rolling arpeggios

storms down with vengeance.


It took thousands of years

for the universe to arrange for us to meet by chance

–a chance of a lifetime;

Then a lifetime of chances

squandered by our witless folly and misdeeds.

Unrealized. Unfulfilled–

Callow youth and shallow beauty

fading into senescence and sleep. 


The city mourns.  Autumn tolls for her dead.

Summer has been slain–

her fruits lay lifeless, deserted in decay.

Soon Winter shall come to cover and conceal

silently effacing all traces that we ever were.



The ambrosial choke of smoke                       

lured me to its lair and touched me.

Our skin lit like tinder–
burnt hands, singed fingers,


Familiar coals once flamboyant in gaudy performance

now lie low with Love’s lament.  Spent.

Dying embers in empathy with the flesh,

yet iced still your impenetrable heart.



You have no heart.                               

I gave you mine;

you gave it back…broken.

And now I need surgeon’s hands to hold the halves together.


 You have no love.                   

 I gave you mine;

you threw it away…strangled, with no emotion.  

In a sweep of your hand,

you swept away “forever”

and only left … “never”.



I heard  you speak the word…married.

My mind froze. My heart stopped.

I couldn’t  breathe as it entered my body 

cutting out the space where you used to be.

Gutted. Eviscerated.

Excised with no anesthetic.

Will it still be there tomorrow?

There is no tomorrow.

I didn’t die, but we did;

taking time away with no reprieve of the past,

leaving me disfigured, severed.

Like the last time.

Love no longer has your face or body 

to invade my dreams.

Now your memory has a fence around it. An inner: No!

Irreparably, it cannot be otherwise; because it is.

It already is.


He’s a man that don’t believe in fences

He’s got his freedom and won’t give it up.

He ain’t crazy, just a little restless.

So hard to handle, so easy to love.

Won’t be settling down with me.

Ain’t putting his heart in chains.

Like a bird that is flying free,

he’s the kind that you just can’t tame.

He’s a wild one with a gypsy soul

And a runaway heart I can’t hold.

A wild one, like a rambling rose.

The last to surrender, the first to let go.

Wouldn’t promise he’d be here tomorrow.

He couldn’t give what I hungered for.

Gave me love but it was just to borrow.

I thought I had it and still wanted more.

He told me that love ain’t free—

the bars of a velvet cage.

Won’t live in captivity.

He’s the kind that you just can’t change.

He’s a wild one with a gypsy soul

And a runaway heart I can’t hold.

A wild one, like a rambling rose.

The last to surrender, the first to let go.

You Tube Wild One


I have no volition

beyond the last  look you left in my eyes,
your last touch cold upon my skin.

The press of an unfulfilled quest

impels us us onward

beyond all reason and restraint–

slow dancing a choreographed waltz 

 until the music stops.

 The steamy tango has melted into memory.

 The bonds that hold us unbind–
Frayed ties unfastening 

as we extricate ourselves from 

the promises written as Scripture to live by

to be renounced and left lorn;

The mode, the manner and the tempo has yet to be decided.

No one wants to be the first to say goodbye.