untitled

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  • Lost Love

    untitled

    Melting into the ritual of inebriation and rehearsed laughter,
    Imagining what is going on inside your head and knowing it's not me,
    I envy the stars that shine on you and the path you choose to take.

    There's no music anymore,
    Just the wind blowing ever so softly across my door,
    Like the way I pretend you touched me.

    Drowning in the night's sea of smoke,
    Gasping, desperate for your breath,
    I wish I were your ritual.

    The melody of the past lies broken,
    Like my body after its return from the fiery blue lights of hell.
    My strength fades into the background and lies transparent; my stare hollows.

    There's no music anymore,
    Just the wind blowing ever so softly.

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    dragonheart1 commented on untitled

    06-28-2009

    This poem is emotional for one can feel alone in times of hurt...but ...The wind never stops blowing nor does love stand still. Our pains are choices we make adn if the music stops it's because we chooseo to ignore it...

    Rocetman commented on untitled

    03-05-2009

    I could almost here your voice as I read it. Very well written, and heart gripping. I'll check out more of yours latter, lookin forward to it!

    The true philosopher and the true poet are one, and a beauty, which is truth, and a truth, which is beauty, is the aim of both.

    Ralph Waldo Emerson, American Poet (1803-1882)

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