Breathe
I breathe
in your departing wake,
of your dust;
it burns
caustic soda crystals,
a trachea vent.
My words
pour out, evaporate,
water droplets;
they hiss
of dumb vapour
on solar dried concrete.
These prayers
a mortuary syntax,
cry of trust betrayed;
howl regret
for what has passed,
and cannot be reclaimed.
Zero host
of the stratosphere
can hear them;
to me,
yes, even me,
they have no meaning.
I breathe
in my own tears,
engulfed in hope;
recycling this
blur of pain
to feel you burn within.
Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2005
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment