Barren

The pain of virgin asphalt in a desert, poignant goodbye notes on bolted doors, silent lips in senseless chorus lines, receding backs of leaving paramours. Chilling snows upon the mountain peaks, the closing eyes of someone’s dying child, desperate prayers in vacuums of death, innocence deflowered and defiled. Cold broken dreams in vacant catacombs, echoed snapping bone in torture cells, eyes reduced to blindness in the night, solemn knells of weary funeral bells. Barren wombs weep crying out for love, arid flesh weeps needing life to drink, longing days of long repeated sighs as wishes colour-drain as black as ink. Nothing leads to less than nothing more, less a lover, less a woman, wife; conception failed with no means of appeal for barren wombs left crying out for life. Futile holding fast then letting slip, missing all the hearts that others had, and in the darkness cast alone to feel the gravity of emptiness so sad.