Metempsychosis

My soul packed up its bags and left my body
Five minutes after meeting you. “That’s where
I want to live,” it scribbled in a brief
Dear John letter it tacked up on my heart
With a refrigerator magnet. “She’s
The mate that I’ve been searching for. Good luck
Finding yours now, with just an empty body.”

I haven’t seen it since, but I’ve seen pictures.
It sends me snapshots of your smiling face
With notes like “I just made her laugh -- ha ha!”
Or “Find a soul-mate yet without a soul?”

I want to say, “Yes, actually, I have.
You’d be surprised how many empty bodies
Are out there looking for more emptiness
To make them feel as if they’re not alone.”

I want to say, “It’s easier to love
Without a soul to make you yearn for more
Than all the fleeting pleasures of the body.”
I want to say, “I bless the day you left me.”

But every time I speak, I only hear
The hollow echo of the null and void
Reverberating till it fades away
And vanishes inside my vacant heart.


Copyright 2011 Matthew J Wells