Pains gauging  

Looking across the room

my pain relief...

when ever in pain my wife is the antidote, just a look soothes me.

You were the frame, and I the
picture that fits within just right.

Time may fade my pixels,
         you may discolour from
former glories.

But when were together we
                  hang just right..

I could haemorrhage every verse that
                                                   pains me.
Lines that penetrate deeper than
                                                what is penned.

Lying motionless on the wounds
                                            that never heal,
confusion of what is my pain
                                            and written verse.

I have hollow veins, nothing more to say,
                                       altercations of a heart and self.
Looking beneath, I have scrawled a thousand
                                       pains but there is nothing is seen..

Empty silhouettes gather around
my footsteps sweeping me in the
current of what's expected of me.

I'm not a reflection of you, no matter
the pressures, pushing me into a tide
of despair, I'm going under do you care.

Collecting my discomfort, I etch it word
for word. Anxiety drains from my wrists
flowing within each syllable, scaring paper.

Ill never be a perfect copy of your footsteps,
drained of self, I'm a fractured reflection.
I'm tired, I need to be a reflection of me.

The world is a mirage of echoes,
versing past my vision like illusions.

I try to reach out, but shadows hold
no grasp of my disappointment.

Failures  mirror on myself as they cling
to my insides like teardrops of acidic despair.

They melt away at the picture perfect hollow
smiles that are cracking within each falsehood.

I'm tired of the scars of my past, stories that
bled, healing but still bleeding beneath myself ..

I waded in her love canal,
swimming deep.

Letting the waters splash
                     over me...

Against the tide of her emotion,
the waters became still, relaxed.

I was submerged,
                       relaxing within her.
Till it was my time to feed
                                     her inner thirst.

Beneath the white snow of her
flowing gown,
                 a beauty is motionless.

Waiting for her moment as wilted
rose petals fall motionless,
               crimson tainting her purity.

The words still lingering, buried within
never to be exhumed from her thoughts.

This bride forever waiting , still holding
on to the rose, she is wilted like it,
but her beauty is motionless as others cry.

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