A Sappy Poem

I wrote this a week or so ago, and it's nothing near literature but it's pretty indicative of my feelings. It's also proof that I actually am writing, yay me. I'm considering putting it in the anthology I'm piecing together, but I think it might be a bit too sappy for that. I think the only reason I actually like it is because I was so happy that it was a true expression of my feelings. Here goes nothing.

Past Four

It's past four in the morning.

A slow cricket is chirping outside my window

        and the air is late spring balmy.

You did love the spring.

I hope you still do

        and that your soul is blooming

                with the pale pink joi de vivre

Darling, I am realizing

        as I lie here in perfect stillness

                that I do not miss you.

My empty arms are satisfied

        not in emptiness

                but at the prospect of new love.

And the space where you once lay

        held soft and close to my breast

                does not miss your warm breath

                        but remembers it, with a fondness as soft as your velvet skin.

A fondness one reserves for past love.

Because

        darling

the birds have begun to sing.

And I am rising with their chorus

        spreading my wings in perfect happiness

                flying away from the ruin of an old heart.