A shaft of white from a parted curtain,
Teardrop on an old pillow
Fingers made dark by night
Half a pillow away from you
My heart empties itself in tears
And strangles me.
Darkness muffles
Like a hag in a rough tattered blanket
Disheveled
Deep breaths as I lust
This unknown moment
Yielding, sighing and then still
Wet-with tears
A foolish hope
To be forever bathed in this moment
Wanting something, feeling nothing
A shadow soaked in rain
Sunrise
Tears stop
Sameness
Falls.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Monotone
Posted by rus at 2:56 AM 1 comments
Wet Sand
All those happy moments
Beautiful sea shells,
Laid out in the soft wet sand,
by the first wave.
Dragged and crushed by the second.
Our footprints outlined
In petals
There by the wayside
Lies
The ravaged core,
tossed away,
Bruised and twisted
All that remains
After desperate fingers,
And a faithless heart,
Have plucked out,
All the tender petals,
On this path
To play
He loves me,
He loves me not.
That gleaming plaque of wood
Our names
Carved out.
Intricate care
Infinite patience,
Now rotting
Soft and blackened
A steady stream of tears
On soft wet sand.
Posted by rus at 2:30 AM 2 comments
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)