Monday, August 04, 2008

where is the panacea?

this one isn't written by me but was written for me. the discovery was recent, while the piece is about 4 years old. it is needless to say that i am in love with this, maybe because she was the first person ever to write for me..maybe because she was the first person i ever noticed, who could write for ..and thank you..

He writes grim verses
And carries his misery
Like a flower from a lover
Pressed between yellowed pages
In a book that speaks of death.

He feels at home
when the sky gasps and
Tears open like an unhealed wound,
he looks up and lets the rain fall
on his face and eyes and be kissed
mother blue sheds tears,
like his lover did once.

At night he is haunted by ghosts of the past
Thoughts wander and drift
in the space above that bed,
her face, those eyes, the warmth
of her breath, the sweat:
These are succubae of the heart.

There were others after
Like that quick hushed bedding
While guilt fell, fresh and moist
Like morning dew and that night,moons ago

As Orion, watched and
shook his hunter head
And decided to hunt
No more.

1 comment:

blood on the ground.. said...

this was lovely. this is lovely. nice to get back in touch with yourself.