amor tardius occidit
We should have
been so much
more.
Now we're just a torn
page
in a finished book.
The memories are
fading,
but the pain still lingers.
I still smell you on
my fingers.
I still taste you on
my tongue.
Love kills slowly;
a backward glance from
an invisible god.
I'm a bird that sings,
but cannot fly.
I'm the ticking of a
clock.
A rocking chair.
tick
tock...
-
Author:
Thomas W Case (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 24th, 2024 14:42
- Comment from author about the poem: I do my poetry readings on my you tube channel to promote my book, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems, available on Amazon.com
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 61
Offline)
Comments6
Great metaphor Thomas with some vivid images that paint the picture
Thank you.
Good write Thomas. Bit of French there in the title?! lol.
Thank you. That's Latin, you muskrat. lol
Just fantastic, Thomas. Some cracking lines again. A torn page in a finished book, just brilliant. Cheers, Tom.
Thank you, my friend.
Wonderfully crafted dear Thomas 🌹
Thank you, sweet Teddy.
Must be a dog-eared book as well… and the shock of a torn page sends mind and senses reeling!
Thank you, kindly.
Excellence would appear to have become your trademark. Neville
Thank you so much, my friend.
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