He was always so happy
strong and bold.
He'd give you the shirt off of his back.
He had a rough life
growing up through the depression,
but like he always does,
he got through it.
He has two boys, of whom he is so proud.
Moved from Regina, to Victoria.
He had the best life anyone his age could have wanted.
But ever since his wife died,
he has not been the same.
But like he has always done,
he got through it.
just a little forgetful.
That's how it always starts out...
But like always, he powered through it,
He is not the same person that I used to know.
He been sentenced to the prison in his own mind.
Possessed by the thoughts of his dogs ashes.
He likes to play the blame game,
but we know he doesn't remember that it was him.
He wakes up in the night
shaking with pain,
tears streaming down his face.
There is nothing we can do,
Two more tylenol.
Hold on to hope
for as long as you can,
It's only a matter of time now.
He gets vocal, a very loud tone.
He'll block you in your room
and make false accusations
But we know that it's the pain induced monster in him.
Tick tock, tick tock...
You can't handle the stress anymore
you have to leave.
Just hope for the best,
maybe it will get better.
Surprise, it doesn't.
Your denial is foolish, everyone knows
what happens next.
All results of
Many voices from the past,
Always echoing in my head,
How long can it last,
I thought you were dead.
You always tell me what to do,
So I don't make a mistake,
Somehow you always knew,
How many I could make.
Because once I hurt you,
And you'll never let me forget,
But what can I do,
You're not quite dead yet.
Why won't you leave me alone,
Will you never forgive me,
I wish I could atone,
Please, just let me be.
The hollow echo of your voice,
Will linger on forever,
You've given me no choice,
It'll never stop, ever.
The sound of you used to make me smile,
But now it tortures me,
I will always be in denial,
So an end I'll never see.
Written by: Kelly Deschler
Giorgio V.'s contest - "Impress Me 2" - themes-gothic/spiritual
Let the Deicide commence.
You're a voyeur at best!
Your vampiric heart is beating out of your chest!
And you have slayed the ones whom would love you for anything less
Ready to consume the final fragments of innocence,
And for you there is no forgiveness,
On your knees pleading, screaming to a tyrant in the skies;
The father of lies.
I will never be enslaved in your superiority
The people agree: jaded of your false dichotomies.
Know: I will be whomever nature intends to be
Apollo and I will share our dreams,
and you will be forced to see
I know who you are...
Readily the first to present your scars
Chained by some despot or mental czar
An emotional homunculus in your mind, behind bars
Reluctant to escape - even when proven fake
Your demented mind - depths no one will penetrate!
...And you see me suffering
Not caring of any casualties
Just as long you recieve your safeguard of sympathy
So very wary of the masses and their Anarchy; Liberious ways
Solipsist - Is there no one you can see?
Even if she was presented burning?
Solipsist - Is there no one you can believe?
Even if Sophia was screaming?
Solipsist - Know you have killed and abused me
Imprisoned in your own personal reality
(Dedicated to Folake)
Your eyes, woman
are like twilight rainbow
amorously bearing aloft passions of mine
toward androcytic ecstacy.
They tell of endless lights.
Night skies clarion the warmth of you
keep me balled-up till
i am tilted to your adorned essence.
May I call up words to adore you,
agglomerate them into a panoply of worshippers
unsandalled before you
like Moses at the burning bush.
And now you seem to fall asleep
but you tell me it's the heavy night
bidding toward a sunny dawn
wherein our love is lighted.
Slowly I let you fall asleep
impatient with the long night
waiting to gaze once more
into the eyes of my lovely love.
Then a lip is placed on yours
and you rouse up wide-eyed
smiling at my romantic move.
We enjoyed the night, cruising on.
I want to say good night
But its night as yet to you
I can see darkness now
If maybe you never left
I have to say good night
Darkness has defeated me
Only your love can resurrect me
I am afraid to go now
But I have to go and live under the shads
Love me to my silent place
Good night when you see the moon
Flower me with roses from abandon garden
Cover me with what i was and be now
Good night sleep with elevated power
And the storm calls to me in ways you'll never understand
A gentle call that urges my soul forth
The lighting guiding a path for my feet to walk
Between the stones and ash of all that once was
I stand in the echoing silence of the rain
It drops down upon my skin like the blessing waters of heaven
Soothing me, lifting the weight from my body
I feel at once as if I am home
Standing amid two dimensions
Caught between two skies - here and there
The night wraping around me in warmth
The gentle wind lifting me off my feet
Drops from the clouded moon washing away my body
and I am left just a soul, an essence
The storm calls me forth from beneath my roof
Beckoning me into its depth
I stand among the reeds in the basin
They dance and sway as if welcoming me
And I sway with them back
Caught up in the power that charges the air
That threatens to sweep me away
If the ground will just loosen its hold
The thunder rumbles a low welcoming growl
And I get pleasently lost within it
I am so small compared to its vastness
I close my eyes and succumb to the skies wishes
Rising higher until my feet no longer touch the ground
My fingertips touch the liquid color of the stars
A sigh drifts from my lips
There is no need of thought to stay afloat
There is no demand to breathe in air
No crushing weight upon my chest
As my lungs struggle to survive
There are no struggles here
I make my bed on blackened clouds
And give in to the call
The storm has claimed me as its own
It was such a struggle to stay upon the ground
When the storm would call me home
Oh how frail is the life of mortals
Look at how our tongue treasures the taste of food
Without oxygen we die
We sleep as though we're dead
I've seen demagogs rising and falling
History hasn't been fair to their very great powers
In our virtues, our pride lights our vice
Oh such hypocrites at heart
Oh how our desires hook us like fish bones
Into doom we gleam
Until we see our fragile weakness on Earth
True repentance is just a dream
I've seen the Light I believe
The truth of God who lived as man
His sacrifice made me free
Oh such a hope of eternity I share
i could sit here. day in and day out
thinking of the most proper way
to let the ink in the pen spill out
but as of late im feeling prehistoric
so much weight on my shoulders
and i dont know where to go
resuscitate my soul
look back up and head to the goal
so much evil around. i feel like the devils workin double shifts just to bring me down.
on the road to redemption
you can take a seat up in the front section
just so you can feel the emotions
in this electric notion
i've done a lot of things that hide the halo
let it all collaborate when i medicate
now look at me, mind workin like plato
formulate a new path to take so i can
maneuver through all the mistakes
we all know we cant change what we've already made
but we can change the next thing we create
startin to sound like a serenity prayer
5 steps till im thirty
and the twenty four before i was never a player
found out when the lights came back on im strictly a lover
its the strongest drink for your soul, when its thirsty
so careful how much you intake or be left hungover
even worse be the one she ran over
i dont mean to come off like im too deep
but the obstacles made there way through just to scrape through
and leave me suffocating
just for me to re-invent a new way to breathe, re-decorating
is your life so complicated
you rather wet up your pillows and revoke from the life you live
just think of your kids mourning
theyll never see that pretty face in the morning any more
cheer your self up
you got a lot to live for
your a gem and im that friend
trynna appraise the value
that you dont see inside of you
just another day for him
searchin wonderin what his purpose is
running in circles
till he found a way through all the turbulence
A self-written poem begun in Christmas Time,
While it tasting the soup and looking for rhyme.
In the kitchen, neighbor with the quiet tomato paste,
The sorcerer's apprentice, a poet pretty well placed
Near Soups (ciorbe) with characteristic sour taste
With luminous face and much grace added the rest:
As he was sipping and tasting from raw and cooked.
His group had a passionate look at what was booked
For the dinner: These might be meat and vegetable soups.
They had to choose till the coming of the helping troops
For the pig`s sacrifice rite, old mixture of joy and grief
Under the hot and long debrief of the pleasant smell-thief
Tripe soup (ciorba de burta) hard prepared from beef,
And calf foot soup (ciorba de vitel), with green-gold leaf
Pickled soup (supa de moare) with pork and big rice;
But use the dice to decide between spice and allspice.
From the slaughtered pig the village` families prepare:
Carnati - sausages kept in special aromatic smoke
Of wet fir and oak burned at small fire as enjoyed by folk;
Caltabos - sausages made with liver sprinkled with beers;
Toba and piftie - dishes using pig's feet, head and ears
Suspended in aspic like a frozen symphony in red
After cups of plum brandy and before going the bed
Tochitura - pan-fried pork to bid it a farewell, twice
Served with mamaliga - palesta , and red wine with ice,
Or boiled wine with pepper and cinnamon against frost;
So that the pork can swim and the verse were glossed;
Piftie - inferior parts of the bashful pig, mainly the tail,
Feet and ears, kind of meal like taken from a fairytale
In which all are cooked and served in a form of gelatin
In this naturalist field, all the poets smile like Mr.Bean;
Jumari - small pieces of pig meat are fried and tumbled
Through various spices if after all, you are a little troubled
And may falter some poetical from the famous songs
Like "So, good people drink…" couples of diphthongs
Since Saturday to Thursday and make colorful the gray.
This poem was written in the Night of Tuesday to Friday.
( And later we`d find that the housewife had covered with it the pickles cucumbers jar.)
I do not know?
My Wishes are Simple
My wishes are simple,
my desires few,
to gaze upon an ocean,
and marvel at a solitary drop of dew.
My wishes are simple,
my dreams not too grand,
to feel the waves teasing my tired feet,
with no footprints left in the cool, wet sand.
My wishes are simple,
my thoughts serenely gentle, calm,
my heart resting beneath a swaying palm,
healing my being, caressed by nature's soothing balm.
Your words are like stones
Whether skipped or thrown
They fly alone
Bruising and breaking deeper than bones
Yet pain from these stones will never be shown.
Whether near or far
She'll faithfully wait
Till the unknown date
When those stones are kind and lost of hate
You make mistakes
Yes she can relate
But what if the pain becomes to great
Whe the kindness comes too late
Such small pieces of her heart
whats left to make
She gave to much
Now there's none to take
Just one everlasting ache
That your stones did create
They say you can never retake
A women's heart once it breaks
So next time withhold the quake
Your stones with take
And keep this lesson
As a dear keepsake.
<3 Kalee Lynn
Like joyous green of summer, my heart is singing filled
With you, while winter`s white is witness of good willed;
The glass works and the hot red wine spreading light:
Comforting carols “Silent Night” or “Brad Frumos”.
Comforting thoughts of good like good miners,
And cakes a lot with names of saints and sinners
Looking the heart of sweet cherries strudel under the sight
Of mother humming “Silent Night” or “Brad Frumos”.
Smoldering embers and feeling like hot chocolate
With scent of incense offered to every Christian mate
Under the new temptation of good and hope of right
Teaching of church on “Silent Night”,under “Brad Frumos”
The sacrifice of the pig, a ritual Symphony in red,
At the other side of modal logic, with wine and bread
And slaughtered pig and soured soups that might
Be prepared and savored on "Silent Night" ,near “Brad Frumos”
The aromatic smoke ascending, and dancing heavenly
Like our attempt to preserve and conserve not only
The clay and flash creature but also the inner light
And so many candles to see the Light on “Silent Night”...
If written by God,
Why lost rhyme, measure?
Through troubled times of struggle, hearts were muddled, I'd dissemble,
I'd drop your hand, chest buckles, you withstand and reassemble,
you've restored so many times what I've tore down, disassembled...
you understand my loss, first hand, "I love you", your lips trembled.
Though record shows my deeds forgo your love, you're more than gentle,
refused the bounds of apprehension, tension disassembled,
unleashed affection, your devotion, yet emotions tremble,
there's something uncontrolled, it has a hold within, it's mental.
Your intuition, my acts of indecision, temperamental,
propriety, on my behalf, falls way short of monumental.
Your heart permits my love, undeserving, unconditional,
though reservations pull back elation, unpredictable.
I promise you my heart, my spirit, it's unequivocal,
you complete the parts of me I thought were integral.
Burdens, troubles, tension, dissension, all now invisible,
all replaced by exuberance I once thought was mythical.
Trepidation, dread, fixation on perceived forged fictionals,
bring forth false truths expected to be unpredictable.
Look forward, opened heart and eyes, keep close what's fundamental,
I understand your fear, first hand, "I love you", my lips tremble.
What lies beneath
The flooding drains
A spiders web
Spawned of rustic chains
If you ask me how I am
I'll reply that I'm ok
Hiding behind this mask
As I resume to face this day
Then theres the sights
A synonym of what I cannot find in you
But I have found
Sometimes hunger is the only kind of food
Have I lost my Faith?
Its something that I could never see
Then theres your eyes
Still falling away from me
But if I was a better man
Would your rivers run deep into outer space
While all along your insisting
That we are both two worlds away
Behold this longer list of denials
And uncertain hope
Reflecting fears of affection
And you still keep your eyes closed
Then by my own admissions
My heart has grown from cold to colder
And by my own submissions
Losing your love has bled me sober
Is my life not tortured enough for you to see?
I am broken as can be.
My heart is torn.
My tears stain these perfect floors.
Why are singing with glee?
Why do you not care about my every plea?
I am trapped in your arms.
I am the hopeless moth.
How did you pick me?
What is it that you see?
A girl untouched by life?
A flower blooming in the desert?
I have said goodbye to my loving integrity.
You took that from me through R-A-P-E.
I do not know?
my love blossoms amidst the thunder
across the oceans and the beyond the seas
my love reaches out and touches
the moments of bliss as the loneliness flees
my love is simple
with profound feelings of yearning desire
my love rages within
the furnace of this aching heart's unquenchable fire
my love basks in the warmth of the knowledge
that in the spring it takes root and it will flower
my love breathes in the light fragrance
of her hair after her warm and delicate shower
my love remembers drowning in her eyes
of those ethereal moments frozen forever more
my love recalls the fleeting ticking of the clock
each minute apart stabbing at my very core
my love she knows I need her so
for she needs me just as much
my love she sprinkles light flourishes of her sensual touch
as my love for her continues to ceaselessly grow
my love reaches down into the crevasses of my of being
my love for her is held onto deep inside
for in the coming of the cold ache of seperation
my love settles between the folds of her heart, for 'tis there that my love for will reside
my love like an eternal dream caresses me in wakefulness and in sleep
and that is the feeling that I shall cherish
a feeling of love that has settled in me
a feeling so pure and a feeling so very deep...
"No." She whispered before drowning into her sorrows.
Her life had been a simple happy one.
There were no pains and no troubles.
Life was life and people were people.
Life was simple.
and life was all about tomorrows.
Life didn't know about sorrows.
Those same sorrows that she drowned in never existed.
They were never there, but where?
First to be sad in the naive town of joy.
Sorrow became contagious and what was known as happiness no longer was there.
It was non-exististent.
A meager thought
and a blessed memory.
She tried and tried.
She failed and failed.
Life was no longer hers.
For Pain was her only possession.
She lived and she died.
Yet, her legacy was passed on.
Never was it gone.
"No." She whispered before drowning in her sorrows,
Oh walker’s will and lander’s way…
Did not we grow in love’s dismay?
while wandering by the garden path
that led us to “the grapes of Wrath”
but also by the Lake of Tow ....and woe
still... on we wandered … did farther go
to where the wake of Willing’s way
slammed us like the tides…to our final days
against the side of Trivial’s Pass
no easy going, unto the last
So Now! Away my love!... turn now away!
The sky is dark... tis end of day
no more to walk hand and hand
no circle to be broken
no promise in sands
of time...ticking time ...that has now stopped
the boom has struck... love's hammer dropped
Let us land …in this peaceful place
in this subjective joy… in an objective space
we journeyed long unto the bend
of bow and break...relent and lend
but even we must greet our circle's end
I do not know?
A Chipped Heart...
Dreaming, my heart brittle as glass,
my solitary facade a pitiful farce,
shards tearing out of my skin,
seeking release, from cages within,
I am lost, in the dream,
bellowing out a silent scream,
torn from reality, drowning in the now,
yet I refuse,
I refuse to succumb,
I refuse to bow.
My chipped heart, may be wounded,
wreathed in pain,
I believe, love, truth, belonging,
will take my hand,
In a room filled with a solitary red hue
The bourgeois spins a wheel
With no destination, nor need
She will spin until her brittle Hands bleed
Just to satisfy her ennui and artifice
But she does not see - the rien I see
The monster approaching her empty dreams
Spinning still - she does not know
The insomniac rose will begin to grow
The thorn of clandestine and ebony
Ostracized for he began to realize
What lies in nonsense is decadence
Which sparks interest
Who's lover is a dadaist
But his story is over now
As Seth lead the way
A poet dies in dismay
The thorn as she spun penetrated
A distraction and a lack of action
She knew the temptation for she so loved the sensation
Of crass, rebellious - ways
The thought laid it's seed
In her Gaulish mind it breeds
She has no other need and no regrets
So she proceeds and the smile lets
With full intention and desire
Caring none of her fate that will transpire
She presses her finger on the thorn
So now she bleeds knowingly
she did not recede
It burns and it stings.
More than drowning beneath
More than remaining in a
She hits and I no longer cry.
Why mother, why?
It burned and it stung.
The markings remained,
returned, and were relived
Looking, loving, and little
known loathing were the known
ways of living.
Never was their pity for the
child that cried
Never was their relief for the
child that tried
You were that lovely bird that
understood the complications of
Nothing looked the same in
those dewy browns of yours.
My everbeating would cry tears
The others-they were yet to
Caring Mother, o' so fair
You were that beautiful bird
filled with care.
The others came and were not
alone. Their two suitors sat on
Rampage and rage why did you
I began to wither and wither
slumping along. So very soon I-
the child of fines- became a
The droops of the Lily of the
Valley became the slumping of
My lovely bird the enemy had
taken you and the person you
were is far from near.
For that divine nature left its
intricate self and you became
irretrievable my big bird.
All of your fairness died.
With that went my pride.
Mother, Mother what moved
Your intense spirt vanished only
to supplement a monster.
Mother, Monster and your tar
How did I kill that liver that was
so, so strong?
The lesson of pain was one you
came to learn.
My darling bird why did you
My lovely bird and your big
I'll tell you once, but never
Pain is only a flower for it
blooms and dies
And a mistake can be killed as
quickly as lice.
You dear bird hurt me well.
Though, haven't you heard?
Weakness is a souls greatest
You brought me up, then you
brought me down.
You haved helped, hurt, and
hindered my blazing spirit.
A hero in my heart-I left you
down in your deep black
Escaping those terrible nights
To go for the town of delights.
I did not find myself to be so important
So I ask my friends do I seem distant?
When I ask the question I had received an answer, Yes
So I think that made it clear that I had been not the best
I am a friend of a friend that talks so many things
That friend talks to much it is insane and insanity it brings
I do care, about my friends they are all good people
They tend to stand on their high steeple
Today I find myself not so aware
Disbanding my fear of regret and care
Walking many different paths I see that I have found holes
It is the path that people choose to use to fuel their rage with coals
Coals are partially burnt wood or fossils a piece of fuel
It is the source of burden and fire a rage of emotions that stands cruel
It can be warm and caring, but it also can be baring
I just start to feel so low, below the ground I keep on staring
I reach for my friends so many times I feel so ignorant at times
Just once I feel I should not rely on them when feeling I can not find
I dig my hole deeper and I can not climb out
For some reason I am just full of doubt
I care about so many things and what I have is confusion
One person should be all I should think about to get out of that illusion
My battle in my heart and mind is not at all so pleasant
I feel so alone in an island that is shaped like a crescent
My emotions is like coinciding with a diameter of the semicircle
Not a full emotion that is complete like a circle
My feelings is circular full of incomplete thoughts, so much deeper
I feel it will wake up my evil half a evil soul that is a sleeper
What question should I ask myself? to believe that I am not so alone
As I feel like a person who is deteriorating to the bone
I ask my friends the same question once again
I figure I should do it, to know what kind of feelings I should end
So many thoughts that come out of my feeling
I feel like my friends take, an emotional trauma of stealing
They ask me questions and I answer theirs
But when I need mine answered I feel burning inside like a flare
Are they even friends when they do not take me serious in anyway
Just put me in my hole cause I feel nothing in their will be getting in my way
It's just so simple to answer someones problem
I answer friends with beauty of a rose, but when they answer mine I get the stem
I know the stem is very important in life, with out it how can a rose be a rose
With a hole to put the root and stem in how can it grow
The words we speak I guess is like all natural things we reap and sow
I do not know?
You and I.
Your heart blazed,
with a warmth of spirit,
soaked in truth.
Your smile burned,
branding me permanently,
enveloping my being.
Your love was complete,
from the depths of your soul,
bathed in silent knowing.
Your dreams were poetic,
fluttering in the afternoon breeze,
infused with the distilled essence of rhyme.
I squandered your generosity of spirit.
I vainly discarded your priceless poems.
Now I stand,
rotting inside, day by day.
I do not know?
The caustic tongues of the evangelists,
Across all creeds and faiths,
Seem as brittle as an old bone.
For they promise heaven and they spew forth threats of hell
While neglecting the words of that man who walked in Galilee
'let him who is without sin, cast the first stone'
the caustic tongues of the evangelists...
across all religions
new-age and the ones of old
baffle me even as I hear
a single simplistic sermon
for they really do, view us all
as blind imbeciles
scurrying around like faithless vermin
the caustic tongues of the evangelists...
wag on and dazzle us with visions of an eternal paradise
while here and now
their hypocrisy festers
within their earnest
'...dil mein hai khwaaish-e-hoor-o-jannat
aur zaahir mein shauk-e-ibaadat
bas hamen sheikh-ji aap jaise
allah-waalon se allah bachaaye...'
'...in your heart you desire the maidens of heaven
yet in the now you practice the rituals of piety
o' sheikh, may allah protect me
from the people of allah like yourself...'
is my tongue as caustic as the tongues I write about?
if so, then glad am I
for they shouldn't be the only ones
who preach and rant and continually shout
from their pulpits ever so high in the sky
from their hubris of comfort in possessing the 'truth'
from their 'knowing' that heaven or hell
awaits both the strong as well as the meek
while oblivious to the reeking foul smell
that encourages prejudice and hate
and visions not of peace
but of endless chants and prayers
which they, in their opium haze
rattle on and on
as they never seem to cease to speak
and though I’m sure that all this bile that I have spewed
take pity on me instead
for it'll surely be I
who'll burn eternally
impaled by a benevolent god
on a slightly warmer than normal day in hell
on a crude wooden spike.
I do not know?
For Primo Levi
it darkened more
as light shone through
and the haunting past stabbed
silently the blind were led
'thieves' you called them
emerging from nowhere
'thieves' you called them
The coldest white had fell
Surrounding all the feet of those behind
The day turned into hours
Just in the mind
Did the gift appear in night?
Or were dreams reality?
Did it come from karma’s hands?
It drifts from sanity
The trek towards that happy place
You’ve been there many times
Something was different now
It held a horrible surprise
The box wasn’t full of life and sound
The ashes of memories made were here
Taking longer to twist the knife
Left remains of a child now in tears
Standing still you couldn’t breath
Excuses flying in your mind
Trying to figure out the scene
Hoping there’s time
You look up to see
Expectant eyes for the last time
You wish you could keep
But it’s the saddest of a smile
I do not know?
Those Distant African Nights...
The shadows swayed in your candlelit room,
a cool breeze teasing your bare back,
streaks of lightning forked in the Johannesburg night,
as my hands stroked your hair,
kissing your soft mouth,
ever so tight.
You whispered that you loved me,
and I kept silent,
the rain fell,
the breeze teased your naked back,
you whispered that you loved me,
as my lips found yours,
the rain washed over our tender nights,
lightning and candlelight,
etching poems on your burnished skin,
a fear gnawed at me,
We parted ways,
and you could never forgive me, you said,
now, after numberless thunderstorms,
the rain that falls,
echo the countless tears that I have shed.
You are long gone,
happy, I pray,
yet the memories persist,
those precious moments shall never,
like the Jo'burg rains,
and I wish you well,
for loving me as you did,
for it was I who was not worthy,
and it is I who is not worthy,
You were always true,
it was I who always,
to give myself,
completely to you.
I do not know?
Flowing through the rivulets of my everyday thoughts,
memories of you surface, gasping for air, breathing in,
permeating, absorbed by the pores of my ageing skin.
Famished, greedily gulping mouthfuls of fractured life,
awash in distant yesteryear, when your feathery kisses,
banished the vacuum, dispelling my anguish and strife.
You are eternally carved, and embroidered into my soul,
I wash ashore, smashing against the boulders of the now,
seeking solace, begging for absolution with my empty bowl.
The book of fate is sealed shut, the tea-leaves have been read,
nothing remains within me, the burden of smiling has been shed.
Now I am stranded, between dreams and the empty years ahead,
searching for forgiveness, in the miles I have yet to wearily tread.
I do not know?
Saturday Rain in Johannesburg…
…With sighs of torrential passion,
the heavens shower teardrops,
weeping with me,
as memories of you come cascading back,
skin on skin, ablaze,
moist kisses, fiery,
gentle whispers of undying love, murmured,
in another life, another time,
far removed from my present, a desolate state of despair,
wallowing in the grime.
The rain keeps falling,
each teardrop stinging my face,
tasting the salt on my lips,
I wonder, do you still remember the caresses of my fingertips,
between breathy confessions, and vows of eternal love,
before you left me, stranded on an island of solitude,
wounded as a wingless dove,
bereft of life,
stripped of all traces of fortitude