The whys or where's
nor the for art thous
or the perhaps now
I know not
the love me nows
nor loved me then
or even the when
I know not
the cerulean sky
nor the indigo goodbye
or the softest sigh...
I know not
when words tried
nor when the rhythm died
or Poetry became a lie
I know not
the how's or wherefores
or keeping score
but
I know when
love of something
begins to end
bleeding from lacerations
bashed against rocks...
I know then...
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 3:41 AM UTC
The whys or where's
nor the for art thous
or the perhaps now
I know not
the love me nows
nor loved me then
or even the when
I know not
the cerulean sky
nor the indigo goodbye
or the softest sigh...
I know not
when words tried
nor when the rhythm died
or Poetry became a lie
I know not
the how's or wherefores
or keeping score
but
I know when
love of something
begins to end
bleeding from lacerations
bashed against rocks...
I know then...
