Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Twenty and nine.

Sifting, smoldering ashes soon grown cold.
The pain too old for ones so young.
Memories capture unattended thoughts,
Suspending them in air.
One sharp breath and all is lost,
What once was, forever not.

To understand would be a crime.
Everyone must play their part.
Kill the questions upon their birth.
Time, they say, will take charge soon.
Dull the stinging of the pain.
Loose the heart to love again.

A doll, re-wound.

No remedy to be discovered.
A history of hostages, increasing.
Expectations come with time's arrival.
Weakness is unwelcome.
Unrequited love, disgracing.
A love unfailing, ill-advised.

Said, the world to hold within his hands,
The keeper of the mysteries.
His love the lesson taught.
Love, indeed, he is.
Is patient, is kind, again, repeat.
The silence only screams.

Warring of the heart continues
Awaiting a day fought for and fought against.
The day, the work of time accomplished.
When the mind has learned where not to go.
The heart has stored, and locked away.
The pain, now devoid of a cause
The passion, not allowed.

Only one small wound will forever remain, left open.
Times again it will smart and sting.
Always the memories of the needle, without the thimble to protect it.

1 comment:

Kate said...

i really like this.
Especially the doll, re-wound.

I'm usually pretty picky about poetry, well done.