Category: Writers Block
I lost myself
As time stood still
I fell into dreams
Watched the sea overflow
Drown my worries
Counting hours
As the light turned to dusk
On a warm summer’s eve
I couldn’t leave the simplicity
Of what I am
And how I breathe
Broken mirrors no longer reflect
The fact that I’m imperfect
Broken, torn between dreams and waking
Never surrendering to the song of dark hours
As the music plays
The haze of blue sky alludes me
A fusion of rainbows and clouds
Swirling through mists of forgotten fragmented memories
Look into me
See the edge
Jagged as a cliff
So close
I never fall and through it all
I dance on the flames of firy existence
That was never my own
Until I’m gone
Far from desperation
When no one hears my words
Sees my face
So plain in the dark
I discard myself among the ruins of this life
Was it supposed to be this way?
So gray?
So rought with confusion
That I insist on believing the pieces of me are buried?
Or are they?
Lost in where home once was
Now home is an expression
A yesterday
A lonely pit of someday
And never again
When I was once strong
I couldn’t move on without reflecting
And so rejected
I believed I was supposed to be a never
A shouldn’t have been
And then again I dream until my heart bleeds
For understanding and what is beautiful
I was never whole
Unless that’s the part I don’t remember
That December’ that once upon a time
Never mind; it’s gone and past
This string of lies is far too vast
To unravel
To make sense of
And so you leave me to wonder
How far buried under the surface the light in me has been
And when you look into my eyes
You see the forever we never had
So sad, but so expected
And rejected I die with you
Lost to the words unspoken.
It's a very beautiful poem. I have little to say as far as advice goes. it's haunting, and sad without really being depressing.
Thank you. I wrote it as it came to me. Just kept writing.
It does have a bit of a stream of consciousness feel to it, though in this case that's definately not a bad thing.
soothing
Glad you posted that, Heather. It does have that stream of consciousness feel, but sometimes that's the best way to write poems.
Writing good poetry takes a talent much different than story or novel writing. I'm not a big fan of poetry, or a critic, so I can really appreciate poetry that makes an impression on me; which this did.
great job heather. you still got your great writeing stile.*hugs*
This poem is incredibly beautiful. Love the flow, occasional rhyme, and the use of assonance.