A Prisoner
A Prisoner
An inmate, a prisoner of this, my obsession.
This Autumn, Green eyed, exotic woman,
the driving force, the source for my confession.
What do I do ?, nothing !, I can,
for she is burned deep into my heart.
I seem not, to have the strength to let go,
nor – even – where to find ?, where to start ?,
to accept the obvious – that which I know.
How ?, do I extinguish this out of control fire,
even dampen this burning flame of desire ?
Confession
My confession to come.
My obsession in sum.
The story that tells,
the heart that fells,
the soul that loves.
The flight of doves,
to hell fires,
to burn the desires,
out of the brain,
out into the realm of pain,
of knowing- acceptance,
of no last dance ?,
of no hope for romance ?
This the last chance, took.
This, a chance to look
into the world anew,
into what ?, once I knew,
experiences, a long time ago
experience, no longer to know
as my time has come to – past
as my spirit has come to fast !
B. J. “A” 2
March 16th 2008
Copyright © William J. Jr. Atfield | Year Posted 2013
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