I like to think of each poem I have ever written (and there have been many, I think I'm better with verse than with words...) as a child I have had. And I do not like to share them, for each carries its own angst and its own story...usually morbid. Viz:
Each night…is the same.
Black. The darkest night ever dreamed
Rain clouds hurtle across the skies
Grey are the ashes flying in the wind
Reminders of a love that to you is a game…
You wrench yourself free of my paintings
Dripping bloody footprints on the ground
I reach out to touch you to hold you close
only our eyes meet in the blackness
and the darkness swallows us whole…
as you walk back toward the light
and I watch and wait and wait
in the shadows that assault and tear me apart.
I run and run to catch up with you
My silent pleas are all thwarted
as I grope for you in the dark
my eyes are blinded by the flame
as you light a joint and hand me a drag
I’m dragged into the depths of madness
My head swirls, “water, water..” I gasp
And you are gone leaving a cold smile.
The moons mists up among the clouds
Sings to me “come…into my arms”
I rise only to be torn to death
by night creatures lying in wait.
As I lie bleeding the moon hides
behind tumultuous clouds – you whistle
and the claws disappear.
only to find my pillow soaked in tears.
Asphalt morning storms into my night.
This is beautiful.. I am discovering a whole new dimension.. niceReplyDelete