For years I have watched the seasons go by,
dry and shrivelled inside this wondow frame
I look beyond yet I am still frozen inside
Alive and dying on my bed of fallen pieces left wanting,
Hunting the outside for what seems to be never mine.
Winter has fractured my mind,
twisted my spine to shape its unescapable relm
of hidden tints and under tones
that roam the hours of this sour place
I face delemma daintfully, dedicated
as I have failed to eradicate what I can’t escape.
It’s the same hours now that pass my rusted window
still yearning the lust that gusts by,
by and by the wind cries as I cry alone
alone….love feels alone,
Love feels gone,
gone is love from my home.
Portal for Writers and Poets in South Africa
Not a Member?
Speak Your Mind