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Cold, permeable raindrops
Fuse with warm, flowing tears,
Coursing down craggy furrows of
An unforgiving headstone.
An anguished face pressed tightly
To a glistening granite slab--
A column etched with memories
That will not pass away.
“Here Lies” is a reminder
That she was not a dream,
That on this earth did walk
An angel sent to him.
Instead of giving love,
He offered her empty promises--
Hollowed, unfilled commitments
That tomorrow would be kept.
A softly muttered prayer says,
“Please forgive me dear,
This final oath I make,
Tonight I will be with you
To plead for one more chance.”
Black Swan  © 2009
All the pain there ever was
all the tears there ever were
Surface again
After so much time
So may smiles
I thought you were gone
and I might be safe at last

Safe from the wet leather
Cologne in the rain
Lights reflecting
Skin soft, wet, cut open
Smoke swirling, filling time and energy
Stealing away all I wanted to say
An embrace like no other
Blurry
Warm
An Eternity

A thought that it was once all mine
That I had captured life's prize
at last in a raindrops time

It all fell
And I moved on
Constantly looking back
Through that ***** window
Wet, soaked with memories
Drenched with tears

I stuffed it all away
stowed safely, deep down
In a perfect hole
that you chiseled in the back of my heart

There it all remains
There it waits
To be remembered
By a reminder unannounced
Shocking my soul awake
Forcing it all out again

One of these days I won't notice
And you'll blow away in the winds of change
A lesson will have been learned,
a life lived,
a moment stolen,
And hope restored
Keep on playing puppet master
pull my strings
Move my arms and legs
Make me dance
Just remember
One day...
The strings will snap
I will be free
Every morning she wakes up
to ringing,
to stinging
In each dream she’s stuck in a
Bell
Every morning she changes her band-aides,
and looks in upon her City
of Yells.

Here when one sounds the alarm,
the screeching does not turn off.
Here the bedrooms are boiling
and the sinks drip drop rocks.
Here no one speaks softly,
Here no one thinks through
their thoughts.

She wakes in her creaking bed,
Her hallow room’s walls cave in
with blood red
They scream so loud she doe not
know a word she has ever said.
She learned to accept it,
She cannot resent it,
But even the flowers here moan.

The City of Yells is in
passionate war
And the rebels are beyond
moving gently.
The City has soldiers who all look like rockets and
their dogs never ever stop barking.
The rebels are patient,
quick hands at the ready, eager to finish
the battle.
The Rockets have guns that do not stop blaring—
So much noise you’d forget you
were fighting.

But the rebels are ones with the truer advantage,
for arms they do not take up.
They are swift with the sword
and the “swish” that it makes
is simple,
yet hard to ignore.

And the girl looks on as the war
continues,
directly in her front yard.

She glares though the window,
a pair of deep eyes, bulging through
the blinds.

“Perhaps today it will all be over,
All that is wrong with be done?”

My dear, my dear, in your
City of Yells, the fighting
has only begun.
Copyright 2006 Frankie Solomon

— The End —