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| Open Poetry #1 |
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evolution Junior Member
since 1999-06-24
Posts 22ma, usa |
it was so cold that monday morning i left before dawn for i hadnt slept that night the drive to your house tainted never before an unpleasant experience creeping to your window reminiscent of when we were young it wasnt so long ago now the purpose is not so innocent quietly we leave your house hoping to go undiscovered again i drive, we drive our destination certain the silence defeaning screaming inside so much to say i want to grab you console you im sorry, im sorry nothing but breath emits even that is forced we arrive oh how did we arrive here im sorry anticipating dread as they take you away you, as i know you, will never return i watch you drift down the corridor now the linoleum under your feet is your only support i wait left alone with time i age more in these few hours than in all of my few years of life trying to justify trying to reason as a part of me dies still screaming inside its over now now its just begun leaving searching for words than can never be found i leave her at home all alone, she is no longer a stranger to it i am empty inside she too, in may ways cold to my touch what have we done this is our secret we can never tell just the three of us |
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| © Copyright 1999 evolution - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Alysia Junior Member
since 1999-06-26
Posts 35american falls, idaho usa |
Wow. I would love to hear the story behind such a powerful piece. Such a twist at the end...I love it. ------------------ ~ Alysia* |
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Christina Myers Member
since 1999-06-21
Posts 159 |
I think I know what this piece is about, but I dare not show my ignorance (or arrogance) and say it- but I have to say...excellent poem. So truthful- it hurts. Bravo. -C ------------------ And I thought: this is how poetry is born. It comes from invisible heights, it is secret and dark in its origins, solitary and fragrant, and like the river it will assimilate whatever falls in its current; it will seek a route between the mountains, and its crystalline song will ripple through the meadows."- Pablo Neruda |
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