Despite
In ashes of the fire that was
I sit and feel the ghosts surround,
Listen for the faintest sound
To signal some remains of life.
I weep a dead refrain because
Of all the things I grieve and miss,
Your smile, your touch, your precious kiss,
The memory cuts me like a knife.
I pray you will return despite
The knowing that I never should,
The feeling that you never could
Feel quite the same as I.
In the dead-hand fall of night
I face the facts and feel so old,
I love you still, alone and cold,
Despite myself, I die...
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