Sonnet 43 – An Ending

I was her “larger than life man” – she told
me so. Now I find that I have to be
larger than love, too. Love did not grow cold,
but “can’t”. Too much to risk and too many

to be hurt - she was always more noble
than I was. And more practical. She could
count true cost where I could only hobble
toward a truth. Left to ourselves, we would

have known all of love in less than a life.
I am dark-drunk and damned - dangerous now
only to myself. I ache for her - wife
of my heart, true bride of all my days. How

can my joy be full if not filled by her?
That life is ended now. Done. Through. Over.