"My hurt has a name.
He is buried, dead;
in the earth.
Of all I loved only bones are left.
My everything has left.
Nothing I am.
Those eyes I'll never find.
They'll never look at me again.
I still can't quite hear his name.
To lemon my wounds, the sweetest of all pains.
My brightest smile, my bitterest pain.
A howling lone wolf with no moon over its head.
Surrounded by ghosts, I found myself again.
The path's dark, all lights faint.
In such starless night I've been doomed to stay.
Thorns soft kisses of despair,
Lips no longer are warm and red.
Stars, God's frozen tears, the only light of the way."
YOU ARE READING
Poetry for the heartless and heartbroken
PoetryMy poetry dwells in the infinite sadness of the broken and the heartless.
