A Love Affair That Ended Before it Started – Poem by Bruce Whealton

I’d like to introduce this poem with two quotes from Anne Sexton.
From “Sylvia’s Death,” by Anne Sexton:
“(In Boston
the dying
ride in cabs,
yes death again,
that ride home
with our boy)”

And from “Letters to Dr. Y, February 16, 1960″
“To die whole,
riddled with nothing
but desire for it,
is like breakfast
after love.

A Tragic Love Affair that Ended Before it Started

Oh, Anne,
What was it about death,
the lover with many faces,
and many forms,
shared by two poet friends,
you and Sylvia?

To hear your words,
you’d think he was a handsome boy –
the man of your dreams,
your angel.

You were insanely chasing
an illusion
and drunkenly toasting your hallucinations.

Even suicides cannot be perfect.
In the end,
there’s only one

You couldn’t see him,
through the fog,
for what he was,
barren of features,
cold skeletal,
like wintry trees…
but you were in love
So, you dreamed
and you dreamed.

You spoke of suicides,
like so many imperfect boys,
who never lived up
to your expectations…
but in end
there’s only one


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