If I only had more time
I’d get it right, find all the lines
What time for study? What time for discovery?
Such things for me are distant luxuries
No time left to care
Why waste it in despair?
No time for French, no time for Hegel
Just quiet nights by the stove, waiting on the kettle
Never hungry, never filled
Nothing I do is ever willed
An actor with no passion left to give
Yet so many I have still outlived
A life-long winter of discontent
My youth so wastefully spent
The future is dead and gone
I slept too much, lived too long
I dreamt of life, and longed for connection
To be more than a machine needing correction
But I’ve buried my dreams below to die
In my garden, where my roses bleed to cry
The eternal strangers, always looking in
Only noticed to be accused of sin
No meaning in life, no meaning in death
In silence their lives came and went
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Author:
Thomasine Dye (
Offline) - Published: December 4th, 2022 00:02
- Comment from author about the poem: "I'm happy, hope you're happy too. I've loved all I've needed, love. Sordid details following." -David Bowie
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 4
Offline)
Comments1
I like this... it is over the top but sophisticated and mature at the same time. Thanks for letting us look in on you.
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