The faltered melody of past days
Guiding me towards darkness,
My last battle is here.
Holding onto a thin thread
Of all that is dear.
Slowly approaching my home
Where all that remains is me.
Looking out on an endlessly hopeless sea.
Love has failed us all once more
In front of me.
Crow’s sung in the wakening night
Causing ghosts and ghouls to stir up a fright
Kingdoms broken down in ominous sight
A moon drowned in red
Hanging on by a thread
Scarecrows wandering from field to field
A night escaping by echoing cries
Where the black cats pounce through dusk
Where witches laughter is cold to the touch
A whisper heard in the atmosphere
Halloween is near
Cut the string
Sever your ties
Slice at my heartstrings
Destroy my dreams
Massacre the thread
So that you can't put it back together
Make me cry
Want to d i e
That's what you want, isn't it
To ruin me
Hanging on by a thread,
I feel like the walking dead,
Can't wait to go back to bed,
Oh Lord! When will this week end?
Finally finished this poem.. School.. I know a little too late..
All my ways she wove of light
Wove them half alive,
Made them warm and beauty-bright...
So the shining, ambient air
Clothes the golden waters where
The pearl fishers dive.
When she wept and begged a kiss
Very close I'd hold her,
Oh I know so well in this
Fine, fierce joy of memory
She was very young like me
Tho' half an aeon older.
Once she kissed me very long,
Tip-toes out the door,
Left me, took her light along,
Faded as a music fades...
Then I saw the changing shades,
Color-blind no more.
my favourite poem, and i'm curious; what's yours?
postings in comments eagerly awaited :D
Lately our love has been too much to carry
I don’t know if my habits have
Caused our relationship to look
A little less flattering on me
Or if maybe I’ve just outgrown you
But I feel like we are ripping at the seams
Our talks used to fill me up
Like pockets filled with sweets
But now it feels like
those pockets are flipping inside out
Maybe it’s time to let this go
sew in new seams
And patch up what’s left
of each other
And cut the thread
He tugged at a snag
On our tattered old sweater
And left but a pile of thread.