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Hope, Resurrected

The signs of passion are poker faced. I spend my nights in deathly ardor Digging deep into the muffled dreams That cry for forgiveness.. I take a puff of the cigar, And pant quietly, with tears in my eyes The sullen kisses and the fake good-byes… The roses dried with my breath, I fancied love, but God forbade: The smiles that played hide-and-seek, Bore my frowns away.. From every stranger who touched my hand, Promised the plight to neverland; I mocked my pain and lived to die In the arms of pity.. The sounds of passion were tricked to silence. I spend my hours in muted rhythms Searching more for the truth that lied.. And warned to conquer forgiveness I take a sip from the liquor’s trench And let myself go astray Wished I had died that day.. The violins cry with my voice I seek to change the devil’s choice The tears that stoked my conscience Have found its place in mystery dens They wander to deliver the day’s omens I mocked my pain and lived to die In the arms of serenity ~~Thank You for the reviews and comments~~

Copyright © | Year Posted 2010




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Date: 9/29/2010 1:31:00 PM
Roses dried with my breath nice expression, very deep meaningful write, Iman
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Date: 9/29/2010 12:22:00 PM
I am happy to be able to sit and read all the diverse poems here at PoetrySoup today. I am glad your poetry was among the ones I am reading today Iman. Love, Carol
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