.
A warm wet circle on my cheek,
all that remains of your presence.
In a cold grey room so empty,
that no longer holds your essence.
My skin and bones have turned to dust,
a heart dripping to pools so dry.
The fibres of being are unbound,
as you walk away and say goodbye.

© Pagan Paul (23/07/17)

.
Just trying to recall what its like to have a love to lose.
PPx
.

I want to listen to this Gymnopédie
as I return back to my evening lair,
as I slowly hum and sing along
to this little nocturne of mine.

I want to listen to this Gymnopédie
as I slumber to my lengthy sleep,
as my life flashes vividly in my mind
like a raconteur retelling stories.

I want to listen to this Gymnopédie
as I slowly doze off to the tranquility,
as I embrace this solemn elegy,
lamenting for my painful loss.

Now, I'm listening to this Gymnopédie,
as the melody radiate through my ears,
as I slumber, slowly but surely
succumb to my undisturbed demise.

The Gymnopédies are a set of famous piano compositions known for its peacefulness.

I'm stuck in this reverie of mine,
drowning in my thoughts,
losing track of time.

I'm losing all the battles I once fought,
and I've lost all the things
that I once sought.

But don't wake me up
from this reverie of mine,
as I like to feel that sweet sweet taste
of regretful mourning and loss.

You come in and out
Everything has changed once more
Scars now mark my heart

You look at me
like you’ve seen God.

Your eyes are the greatest
depths of the ocean while
I’m afraid to wade up
to my waist on the shores.

It’s as if every care you
have in the world has been
replaced by your sudden
desire to touch my lips.

I know your heart is a storm,
but it thunders to know the sun again.

Let me just be honest with you,
writing this down and thinking it through

Shit, I fuck up
No I didn't fuck up
Shit, I fuck up

There my be rhyme or some reason
but the ones you loved should be banned from treason
and yet here i am breathing
while she holds her breath praying I'm seeing

I don't see all that well.
Writing a poem, reading a book, this is my hell.
From experience I most certainly well
This either ends great or he or she's going to break.
The optics of illusion need to be focused.
Not bred in us for lazy purpose.

Fuck, this is my mistake.
She doesn't even ask for something simple as a birth cake.
And this is the girl I'm throwing away?
What has she done to deserve this fate?
Who am I to behave this way?

I know that I must pay for my mistakes.
But know that at my core, my heart beat harder when beat yours
I can't stop what is coming. The table's are turned and the question of me is finally asked:

Now, what are you going to do?

I am not sure if comprehension can be achieved in this reading.  But this is how I have been feeling.

I don't know what the fuck all of it was completely.  It is a completely different style lending more towards a story telling nature that I haven't played with, and since I am currently pissed off it makes it meaningful to get it out meaningfully.

In life, the two noble powers, Birth and Death

Whose balanced struggle is catalyst for the rest

Birth starts a life that it's Death's job to take

With Birth's son, Love, and Death's son Pain

Companions to hold until dust in a grave

There once was a power who ruled beneath

He'd steal the lost and smite the weak

He held man's life in his cold, cruel grasp

Without a moment of light to last

He'd visit the people, a harbinger sans ruth

Bringing news of a barren, hideous truth

Then steal away, fast as shadow rolls

Bringing with him expired human souls

Death was ruthless, death was cold

Death had no problems with himself to behold

He reveled in sadness, he thrived in blood red

He garnered his power from tears, victims shed

Then one day, a golden beam of light

The one golden ray that Death cannot smite

A soft light beam was born at the crack of dawn

And Death felt something he knew was wrong

The baby girl, such a small babe

She grew up in safety, out of Death's way

But Death could not keep away from her for long so light

He had to see her, be near her, so he visited her one night

He took not the girl, for then he could not even hope

But instead, her mother, whose thread of life he cut the rope

And the girl was saddened, desolate she cried

But Death couldn't find it in him to allow her to die

So he saved his visit to her for the last one he brings

Visiting her father and brother next he came, slicing her heart-strings

But the girl became depressed and wished not for him

But instead she pulled the dagger out on a hopeless whim

The pain was too much for her to await her Death's part

She pulled the knife out and held it over her heart

She took her own life and robbed Death of his visit such

And she passed to forever, without Death having one touch

They spent the day
eating t.v. dinners;
she had Hungry Man,
he had Kid Cuisine.

Grandma changed the channel
from Middle-Class Meltdown to
an 80's cartoon about robotic bears.
And he said, Grandma, this is scary
- so she turned it to a show with
pre-teen children and vanilla jokes.

The sun melted into orange and purple,
spilling over the horizon like melted sorbet.
Surroundings purged a different dark.
Shadows stuck more than usual, she noticed.
The Lurking was present, even if she didn't
quite understand what it was or where.

A few days passed, where she could
feel malevolence nip at the heels of her home.
She remembered her daughter,
at a recital, dancing with grace --
this helped her fall asleep.

She remembered the phone ring,
radiating a green hue, stating
words she didn't understand.
Answering it. This helped her
wake up.

Sanny 4d

I still remember the first time I heard your voice.

16 years ago you blew away.

Your words spoke to me.

One of my dearest memories..

I'll never forget it.

I fell in love with your words.

Every day you kept me going, kept me alive.

When I lost hope you were there.

And now you're gone.

No more words. Only grief.

Another star burned out.

A piece of me died with you..

Now you're frozen in time.

By Arcassin Burnham


The moon looks nice and the stars gleam bright
just as young as the night,
like the angels that appear in front of a fight,
for the wrong things in this cruel world that we spite,
rush the wind off a bike,
when a boy loves a girl he gives his all,
Every man in the world don't have bad tendencies,
Like a stand-up or a missed call,
and now the girl you had thinks you cheated while you stand tall,
head high,
love the person you are so you laugh and say bye,
tears fall down as she runs then she sighs,
if you think you were asshole then,
you trying be compassionate is a nice damn try,
now why'd you let her go? all she did was argue with her mother
in a broken home with an abusive step-dad in a ghetto neighborhood
where taxes break everybody down, nothing ever happens but shootings
up in the south zone,
did you dismiss all the bruises that her step-dad was giving her?
how about the time when her mother drove her to school
and did coke in the parking lot like it was okay for her,
Everybody knows your a cheater,
so what you got to hide besides the gonorrhea that you transmit to
every girl you had sex with,
Boy I'm glad she didn't catch it,
thinking , that if she did you were gonna catch an ass whooping.

©abpoetry2017
https://arcassin.blogspot.com/2017/07/too-late-to-get-her-back.html
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