Francesco

Fickle Hope

Why so fickle

the flame that brightens my path.

I see not ahead nor behind me

in a journey I ought not to be on.

 

Weak is my sight as my lips tremble.

Fear is a memory of a long lost friend.

My eyes rest on a vision divine,

as my mind pesters my heart:

She’s not mine.

 

My lower limbs shaking.

As I walk the thin line

of a horizon too far,

shine the tears in her eyes.

 

She cries not for love, joy nor pain.

She cries for the years gone past.

She cries for the shadows she cast

and the few that’ll always remain.

 

Haunted by quizzical sleepless dreams

hope is as bright as the winter sun,

yet upon wakening it quietly screams

for an addiction I can’t overcome.

 

It whispers softly into my brain:

“You have no claim, you have no claim!

Abandon the game, extinguish the flame:

My poor old boy, you have no claim!”

 

Yet I scour the deepest ends

with my hands tied to my own chains.

Without second guess or shame…

…I suffer in vane.

  • Author: Francesco (Offline Offline)
  • Published: December 11th, 2016 18:59
  • Comment from author about the poem: A poem about the agony and roller coaster of uncertainty in love.
  • Category: Love
  • Views:
  • User favorite of this poem: The 2 A.M Writer.

Comments2

  • Tony36

    Wonderfully written poem

    • Francesco

      Thank you Tony.

      • Tony36

        Welcome

      • The 2 A.M Writer

        I like the style going on here. Good write!

        • Francesco

          Many thanks, and thank you for making this a favourite.



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