mornings, dawning clear
cold with realization
that my life
be not as it should
and my love
be not as it could
emptiness lies
where once lived trust
and armor guards
against its return
scars of bleeding hope
a constant ache
in my hollow whole
the shroud is heavy
yet it skins my wounds
and I wonder if ever
without it I'll walk
again
I awake with a start
and start with a sigh
crying not for what is felt
but feeling what is not
on Sunday mornings
~ ~ ~
2 comments:
Listen:
http://www.myspace.com/briobytes
I'm not big on poetry as a rule...but this was really good. Course, the downside is now I'm feeling melancholy and forlorn myself. :-\ Stupid Feelings!!
heheh, that's a little better.
Tarl
Post a Comment