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) - 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: 90
- User favorite of this poem: The 2 A.M Writer.
Offline)
Comments2
Wonderfully written poem
Thank you Tony.
Welcome
I like the style going on here. Good write!
Many thanks, and thank you for making this a favourite.
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