Andy Veilleux

Forty nights

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Forty nights brought no relief

and the same expectation of waiting

for the someone to walk into what was

once

home.

 

It was home for one,

and too big to be so,

and that added to the drama of it all.

 

It had been over three months of

unbearable suffering

unrestrained freedom

and the void,

and nothing changed much,

not at its core.

 

There was a special hatred

reserved for ex-lovers,

and it could be broken down fairly easily

even to the uninitiated whom could not

fully

understand

the feeling of loss.

 

It was a mixture of trusting someone entirely,

having absolute confidence in the Good,

and dreaming enough to believe in Santa Claus,

and coming home to shattered dreams

trampled on a dirty floor with

muddy work boots,

figuring out the Good is some abstraction

unattainable to humans

and seeing the one you love

unzipped themselves to reveal

a serial killer

poltergeist

or android.

 

There was the cheapest

and deepest-cutting

feeling of betrayal and emptiness,

but maybe that wasn't down to you

and maybe that's just

life.

To everyone whom I have spent a night with

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Love does not happen in a
Set space or time,
Sometimes it happens in one
Small
Seemingly for fun alone
Moment
And sometimes it spans years or decades.

It holds me alike either way
And I find myself reflecting on
Everyone with whom I have spent an evening
More commonly these days
And much more fondly.

There was love
Even within other love
And maybe there always will be.

Surely, there always will be.

We watched Harper reelected,
Consummated years of built-up lust,
Snuck away to your jeep,
Frequently tents or spent time laughing in a tent shared with a friend,
Spent time as three in a shower for two ,
Exchanged pictures or videos,
There was no limit to the fun.

The fun ends they all say,
But maybe they never experienced the fun that I had,
Or they didn’t understand that this fun
Could be built and sustained by two and two alone,
Granted you had the right two.

Australia,
Newfoundland,
Quebec,
British Columbia,
Taiwan,
And of course Sudbury,
Thank you everyone and everywhere.

Life is much less painful and gruesome
When a bed is filled with two or three
than when it is one,
And there have been tens of twos.

The wind and you

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I hope the cold
Windy nights
With the heavy
Wet snow
Rip at your face and hair
Throw you around the sidewalks
And age you worse than the sun.

I hope the cold air seaps into
Every window
Door
and crack in your room
And reminds you of the cold
Lonely
Empty feelings
And the hollow men that inhabit that space now.

I hope they make you happy,
And that’s the worst insult of all.

The poor Quidi Vidi dead

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There’s a cemetery on Forest Road
As romantic
Old
And atmospheric as one could ask for,
but it has become crowded.

The dead are now squeezed between a superstore
Penitentiary
A parking lot
And roads.

The bright lights,
A mark of any city,
Invade the sleep of the dead
Constantly illuminating their resting places
And as the lights get brighter
Due to increased innovation,
The dead lose more ability to sleep.

Progress always marches over the bones of ancestors
Sometimes it is unintentional,
But it is always stupid and soul-crushing.

Thoughts on a bus on a snowy February evening

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I don’t think about it anymore,
Or that’s what I tell you and
I’ll flash a trademark smirk out of
The corner of my handsome face to
Sink the hook in for my lies.

I’m harmless in love and life but
Don’t think you can walk away unchanged
I change everyone I touch and
Mostly for the better
Although the void that comes from
My absence
Can be life threatening
and possibly insatiable.

But isn’t that life?

A series of holes we try to fill with
Whatever fits in
Hoping something stood the bleeding or
At least slows it down enough for us to limp on.

Sometimes it works
At least temporarily,
And we hobble along like wounded soldiers
Or drunken idiots.

There’s no medic or stomach pump coming
And like mercury,
The pain and wounds never stop accumulating.

Some of us are tougher than others,
But what’s the harder,
More courageous choice?

Do we limp on and eventually be put down as old dogs
Or
Choose a time to bow out of the tragicomedy?

Living on fumes

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You will break upon my shores,
Rocky escarpments and impossible climbs,
Only meant for the hardest of climbers.

I am intoxicating,
All-consuming
And you will love me.

I feed on the affection of others
Despite my high affection for myself,
I worry about starving.

I will not tear you apart or leave you hollow,
I will leave you full.

I live life at too fast or a speed too often
And I eat through fuel like a metropolis,
Eventually the fossilized plant matter is
All gone
All consumed
And then what happens?

I guess I leave or you do,
After living off fumes for too long,
Or maybe we learn to live on less.

Transitions of need

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There is a transition between

can not live without and

could not live with,

then and now.

 

The first time is before

the break

and the next time

is the aftermath of it all.

 

There are only ever

two massive shifts

and then the love dies,

which is to say the passion

goes away but it can still

play on your heart strings

and beat you up on lonely nights.

 

But,

It no longer owns you.

Once more with feeling

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A steel bucket with stagnant water,
Calcium collecting with soap residue,
the heat from the sauna burns it all until it
Is the bucket also.

And the water begs for something fresh,
A splash of multi-coloured dye to smack down
Altering the water forever and making it
New.

There have been splashes before
With two for one and also
Some of the brand new loves,
But it’s mostly worn-out and the same.

And now there you are,
A splash of colour in the grey-rainy world
Poised to set my world on fire,
If we let you.

A winning streak

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I got more than seven hours
Of much-needed and dreamed about
Sleep
For two nights in a row.

Maybe I just needed the company,
Or maybe it was the couch,
Or maybe it was a dream.

I feel somewhat rested
With a sore back but
No other downsides.

No melatonin,
No secret gimmicks,
No early bed-time,
Just real,
Honest
Sleep.

These days that is the best
Winning streak
I have had in years.