Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Gold autumn leaves with withered rose
crumble like promises we made.
To dust returns the love I chose
as rust consumes the sharpened blade.

Wet grindstone hones the rusted edge.
Love swings the sword I can't evade.
You watch me teeter on the ledge
but find no words that can dissuade.

My broken thoughts can not sustain
the quest for all that I do lack.
Yet though vague flashbacks still remain
I know this too will fade to black.

I never thought that anything
that felt so right could ever die.
What was once love would later bring
an end to thinking I should try.

Glass promises we sometimes make
reflect not love but self defense.
They tell a lie and only take
then shatter at our own expense.

Love never heard me say I do.
It passed my heart along the way.
No sacrifice will make it true.
I move my rook to end the play.
Poem is an excerpt from my blog at http://smoljanovic.net

— The End —