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literature
In Memory
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Literature Text
A broken locket with a half-written name;
A faded picture in a distorted picture frame.
A cracked vase which once held the most precious roses,
A tear-stained letter in memory of long ago proposes.
Eyes closed to a world already seen;
Even the nose seems to have forgotten how to breathe.
His presence gone, but she swears she sees him there,
A half of her while she gazes in the mirror.
A calendar left five months behind;
A check on the table, dated but not signed,
A leaf which blew in to find shelter from a storm;
A sanctuary but no longer a home.
Heart faintly beating beneath the drum of water;
Scars of the past are not so easily slaughtered.
Daunting words which seem to still echo in each room,
She swears he will return someday soon.
A candle left burning in the window;
A swing swaying quietly, attached to the willow,
A weed growing up from the cracks toward the sun,
A single song on repeat about finding The One.
Footsteps barely heard against the wood floors,
Without purpose or destination is stated in the noise.
An aimless wander in a familiar place--
Hoping to grasp just a reflection of his face.
A bed which has not been slept in for weeks;
A wrinkle in just one sheet.
A curtain pulled close yet dances in the wind,
A memory of his voice she prays she'll hear again.
What happens to a love flown South for eternity?
To a heart which prefers hibernation to beating?
What happens to a love which never existed in reality?
To a heart which has always lived in memory?
A poem left unfinished without a word to rhyme;
An emotion left unstated for it had become a crime.
A book never opened because the title said it all,
An ending to a life behind these lifeless walls...
A faded picture in a distorted picture frame.
A cracked vase which once held the most precious roses,
A tear-stained letter in memory of long ago proposes.
Eyes closed to a world already seen;
Even the nose seems to have forgotten how to breathe.
His presence gone, but she swears she sees him there,
A half of her while she gazes in the mirror.
A calendar left five months behind;
A check on the table, dated but not signed,
A leaf which blew in to find shelter from a storm;
A sanctuary but no longer a home.
Heart faintly beating beneath the drum of water;
Scars of the past are not so easily slaughtered.
Daunting words which seem to still echo in each room,
She swears he will return someday soon.
A candle left burning in the window;
A swing swaying quietly, attached to the willow,
A weed growing up from the cracks toward the sun,
A single song on repeat about finding The One.
Footsteps barely heard against the wood floors,
Without purpose or destination is stated in the noise.
An aimless wander in a familiar place--
Hoping to grasp just a reflection of his face.
A bed which has not been slept in for weeks;
A wrinkle in just one sheet.
A curtain pulled close yet dances in the wind,
A memory of his voice she prays she'll hear again.
What happens to a love flown South for eternity?
To a heart which prefers hibernation to beating?
What happens to a love which never existed in reality?
To a heart which has always lived in memory?
A poem left unfinished without a word to rhyme;
An emotion left unstated for it had become a crime.
A book never opened because the title said it all,
An ending to a life behind these lifeless walls...
Medication + Pain + Strange yet Powerful Emotions=
Odd, sad, interesting, point of view
of a poem.
Not quite sure where it came from...
But I do have to say, I enjoy the imagery. haha
I am going to attempt sleep now.
I will be responding to comments and the such in the morning, no doubt. I'm getting behind...
Odd, sad, interesting, point of view
of a poem.
Not quite sure where it came from...
But I do have to say, I enjoy the imagery. haha
I am going to attempt sleep now.
I will be responding to comments and the such in the morning, no doubt. I'm getting behind...
Comments33
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Definitely a lot of imaging to capture the attention... but I think this one has somehow less story than most of your others. Not a bad thing, as it draws our attention to these items and lets us connect them ourselves...
Look at me. I sound like a genuine analyst/critic. lol
Good job. ^^
Look at me. I sound like a genuine analyst/critic. lol
Good job. ^^