I read a story about two lovers, one died in the others arms.
I can't even fathom.
But I imagine, It's something like when your heart broke while I held it in my hands.
No one Understands how I can compare the two.
But You're dead now, or at least a part of you.
Is six feet under the ground.
I listen to you talking
But the part of you i fell for never makes a sound.
Yet, people are offended I think I can relate to a story so tragic.
They just don't get it...we used to be magic.
no one understands, to me this is death.
Living without you, get's harder with each breath.
I know, you didn't mean any harm.
But this is the end.
And the saddest part is I didn't get to die in your arms.


© copyrighted Nicole Ann Osborn

the bells ring and ring
distant and unimportant
but they speak warning.

I hope
a part
of me
always
stays young
enough to
believe
I
could touch
the soft
cottony clouds
if I could
only reach
them.

~

If my love were rain,
would you carry an umbrella?

White paint peels off to leave the walls bare,
naked and exposed to
elements.
Much like her soul.
Starved of love and affection,
accepted but not wanted.
Tolerated.
The sun casts her shadows on those
she frowns upon,
leaving winding roads to spiral out of control.
Time shifts her world from
it's axis as it progresses,
it doesn't heal,
it doesn't lessen,
It just is.
Echoes of your voice ricochets
to find her heart,
carrying the exact weight they
did the second they fled your tongue,
never shedding an ounce of momentum

"The waves of pain
that had only lapped at her
before now
reared up high and pulled her under .."