"unfelt" poems
#there are the ones
that feel it climb up
the shadow towards the light,
hesitation on every rung,
each wave of the arising
overwhelms unabated ―
and woe betides those
who are on the run
from a storm's deluge
A rousing ocean breeze
stirs inside the memory
of an unframed seashell
lying on the hearth mantel;
heightened sensitivity
lapping soundlessly,
spindrift plashing
the shoreline
of another world's
feigned peace
Perhaps the muted voice
of guilty pleasures,
hushed by their own
hidden truths
Feeling the unfelt textures
of every stifled vibration
left unbreathed
The naked truth befallen
so cold and lonely
Running in circles,
volatile as all those
unspoken excitations raging ―
and the whispers of those
who hear not
the voices in the wind
An emotionally enslaved heart
tarries, marooned high and dry
in a memory on a distant sand bar
lain fallow for so long ―
stagnant darkness
of an unsated soul
gathered on the back
of a parched tongue
sullied wordless
Rising up through
a dusty hieroglyph corridor
through an unlocked
labyrinth gate; vestige echoes
from somewhere left behind
in an incomprehensible
abandoned wake
It's getting harder and harder
for an insatiable soul to breathe ...
climbing up a tree trunk―
up within the silence
of the listening tree
Toes dug into
the rough bark furrows ―
fingers reaching upwards
beyond their deepest known grasp
A shadow stranded
out on a hangin' bough
hearkening without ears that hear:
“perhaps they’ll listen now“
the wingless bird sings
in psalms that fly away
on tattered feathers
over untamed waters roil
Back to nature’s waning youth,
the bough bends unbroken
to taste the freedom
of the wild absolving seas
Jesse Stillwater
June 2018
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 12:41 PM UTC
I though he carried the light
where words would illuminate
driving me to a euphoric ******
a man without a face or a trace
unhindered in a double live and lies
a bubble of psychotic psychic surety
his passion was an addiction
my reservations moved a notch
addicted to a body of ideology
the stances of philosophical terms
uncovering ancient possibilities
the unfelt mysteries of history
veiled in icicles of pretence and lies
as if a Marxist, a closet bourgeoise
The stoicism of present bargains
questioning Socrates and morality reasons
a fatal dose ,examining the unexamined
as colourful as his mind blew my inner glow
he was lost in sad and low dialogues
afraid to face the earthly shallow shadows
yet his spirits moved deep within mine
and it paralysed and fed on my energy
and his delusion became my seduction
but he woke my inner poetic tongue
letting it caress all his inner wounds
A shadow hiding behind Frankenstein’s
a sly monster who lied to my eyes
ghosting in with the a pen that weakens
romancing with letters of a fiery doom
a penpal whom I met within my lowest
but whose words lay in a deep unending quarry
his warmth I could never ever tell
his kiss only a draft on the dewy grass
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 5:29 PM UTC
i guess it was sort of ironic as it's a place where people to go to be treated that they couldn't properly take care of a plant. it may not have been their fault, but it was odd to see shriveled up leaves on top of the *** full of dirt, and a bamboo stick pointing up to give direction to what was no longer there. the *** itself was colorful, adorned in hues of red and blue to give hints toward the life that was once there, and maybe that's what i do for myself. i adorn myself in hues of purple, green, blue to imply a liveliness that i no longer feel deep within. to cover up an emptiness that once held some form of life, some form of happiness and innocence. it's not like i've had it hard, i mean, things haven't been absolutely bright and sunny but i haven't experienced great loss but somehow i have lost myself. it's an odd feeling, because i know i will be okay and that everything will turn out just fine but i can't believe that in my heart and i just can't feel okay. and maybe that's fine. it's healthier to express an emotion than to cover it up and hide it, because it will build upon itself until you can no longer withstand the weight and oh, god, i know how it feels to tremble and crumble underneath the weight of unfelt emotions.
but is this better?
i look to extremes to cure the numbness in my chest and i can't care if it's good for me or not.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 9:27 PM UTC
An indifferent ache swirls in the silence
throbbing like a dancing candle flame;
no one understands the heart of silence
moving the darkness with its ancient dance
Its voice is only felt but never heard
the way it whispers the reality it bears;
disrobing the nakedness of a fragile heart
exposing inherent truth deep in disguise
retouching the chaos passing of love laid bare
Unspoken emotions that nobody hears
float around a muted tongue benumbed by fear
doubt is a bitter taste that knows not love
searching for a labyrinth to begin to wend a better way
trying to feel the unfelt warmth of love in an endless cold
waiting on a frozen emptiness that never thaws
No one understands the haunting fear,
... surly it couldn't happen again ― and surly it will,
a heart stifled silent, silence doth loudly peal
poignant dreaded words:
***"It's not you ― it's me ,.......
I love you but I'm not in love with you"***
and like winter dreaming for the sun to reappear,
to come back again and dry the memory of fallen tears,
a hushed heart falls off the earth lost in ether shadows lay
mooning in the lonely silence within moonlit dapple
When you pull love too close ― it will push you away
some silence heals ― a dissonant silence cuts to the bone
Only the lonely feel a silent voice sigh
Only one hears a silenced heart die ...
harlon rivers ... March 2018
Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 3:00 PM UTC
Willow herb floating
on silent certainty
ashes of sighs
not fleeting,
unvapoured on the
blossom of the rain,
I am too light to
pull or push
the swing of delight
through this land.
The rain left me for a
while
sun unshielding
-a thousand widows
more unyielding than the depths . .
Once shadowed whisperers
of delight,gossamer
sparkling , descending
their chains
of necromantic hope.
Lilith is no night owl
she is mother, eve
and my becoming:
sweet earth spun
at once ,
exhaling her .
The see saw
bumped gently
on my chin
it is a most gentle
form of awakening.
The silence bore no whispers
till sinking through the quicksand
-or was it quicksilver?
-in any case I could smell little
in my amniotic amnesia.
I made ten thousand friends,till their soap
made this place clean.
Is this a seed or a dying
hopefulness
-is my sallow sowing
beyond all shores of
reproduction;
a reflection of the child
they dared not bear?
Is my last breath like this
a forgotton yielding
will they catch me
as I fall ?
-(sweet earth)-
This moth of my ending,
a shallow recantation,
my fears-
their memories, mere
testubes of
stylish hope .
I breathe the elegant stare
you have forgotten .
Once more free
from such
rememberance
I need not ,
remained not ,
your imploded ,
wakefulness .
A thousand pardons
exhaled like silk
entwining
an unfinished race
spider of a thousand eyes .
One may say
I was
stared
to death
but surrogate air
mocks childish pity.
Taut refelexions
bear salt echoes
in silk convulsions
fresh water
a veneered hope .
Easier in death than life
is a child's sorrowed
partings ,
the illusion of
bouyancy
rippled tides
unfelt.
The oceans have not enough salt
for such shrunken sorrow.
if we could but once
have shared
unbreathed aspersion .
The room has come and gone
the pillow quite undry
unforgotten
unremembered.
A web untouched
Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 7:46 AM UTC
Daughter of Jove, relentless Power,
Thou tamer of the human breast,
Whose iron scourge and tort’ring hour
The Bad affright, afflict the Best!
Bound in thy adamantine chain
The Proud are taught to taste of pain,
And purple Tyrants vainly groan
With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone.
When first thy Sire to send on earth
Virtue, his darling child, designed,
To thee he gave the heav’nly Birth,
And bade to form her infant mind.
Stern rugged Nurse! thy rigid lore
With patience many a year she bore:
What sorrow was, thou bad’st her know,
And from her own she learned to melt at others’ woe.
Scared at thy frown terrific, fly
Self-pleasing Folly’s idle brood,
Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy,
And leave us leisure to be good.
Light they disperse, and with them go
The summer Friend, the flatt’ring Foe;
By vain Prosperity received,
To her they vow their truth, and are again believed.
Wisdom in sable garb arrayed
Immersed in rapt’rous thought profound,
And Melancholy, silent maid
With leaden eye, that loves the ground,
Still on thy solemn steps attend:
Warm Charity, the gen’ral Friend,
With Justice, to herself severe,
And Pity dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear.
Oh, gently on thy Suppliant’s head,
Dread Goddess, lay thy chast’ning hand!
Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,
Not circled with the vengeful Band
(As by the Impious thou art seen),
With thund’ring voice, and threat’ning mien,
With screaming Horror’s funeral cry,
Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty.
Thy form benign, O Goddess, wear,
Thy milder influence impart,
Thy philosophic Train be there
To soften, not to wound my heart.
The gen’rous spark extinct revive,
Teach me to love and to forgive,
Exact my own defects to scan,
What others are, to feel, and know myself a Man.
3.5k
I felt a spirit of love begin to stir
Within my heart, long time unfelt till then;
And saw Love coming towards me fair and fain
(That I scarce knew him for his joyful cheer),
Saying, 'Be now indeed my worshipper!'
And in his speech he laughed and laughed again.
Then, while it was his pleasure to remain,
I chanced to look the way he had drawn near,
And saw the Ladies Joan and Beatrice
Approach me, this the other following,
One and a second marvel instantly.
And even as now my memory speaketh this,
Love spake it then: 'The first is christened Spring;
The second Love, she is so like to me.'
3.1k
Oh! pleasant exercise of hope and joy!
For mighty were the auxiliars which then stood
Upon our side, we who were strong in love!
Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,
But to be young was very heaven!—Oh! times,
In which the meagre, stale, forbidding ways
Of custom, law, and statute, took at once
The attraction of a country in romance!
When Reason seemed the most to assert her rights,
When most intent on making of herself
A prime Enchantress—to assist the work
Which then was going forward in her name!
Not favoured spots alone, but the whole earth,
The beauty wore of promise, that which sets
(As at some moment might not be unfelt
Among the bowers of paradise itself )
The budding rose above the rose full blown.
What temper at the prospect did not wake
To happiness unthought of? The inert
Were roused, and lively natures rapt away!
They who had fed their childhood upon dreams,
The playfellows of fancy, who had made
All powers of swiftness, subtilty, and strength
Their ministers,—who in lordly wise had stirred
Among the grandest objects of the sense,
And dealt with whatsoever they found there
As if they had within some lurking right
To wield it;—they, too, who, of gentle mood,
Had watched all gentle motions, and to these
Had fitted their own thoughts, schemers more wild,
And in the region of their peaceful selves;—
Now was it that both found, the meek and lofty
Did both find, helpers to their heart’s desire,
And stuff at hand, plastic as they could wish;
Wcre called upon to exercise their skill,
Not in Utopia, subterranean fields,
Or some secreted island, Heaven knows where!
But in the very world, which is the world
Of all of us,—the place where in the end
We find our happiness, or not at all!
2.9k
Check - work nine-to-five, eat, sleep, draw again.
Surviving the day, nothing more, c'est bien.
Or call - easy choice for the hand you were dealt.
Just settle for average; win, lose; both unfelt.
If you need to, just quit; to accept it, just fold.
Be resigned to your fate; easy just isn't bold.
If not, you might lose; see pain, heartbreak, and death.
Bracing for blows that will knock out your breath.
So you didn't call a bluff, didn't sees players who cheat?
Or they raised you too much, now you're feeling the heat.
And life may be a ***** she deals hands unfair.
She's the muscle who beats you; detached, doesn't care.
But here's the kicker, dear life's only tell -
There's so much more out there; fight right to the bell!
'Cuz quitting the game after one bad beat?
You'd risk every win, for fear of defeat?
Not even one pair? Means no partner for life?
No falling in love, no taking the dive.
I guess if you're scared, that's a dangerous risk
Probably not worth the bet.
No three of a kind? No partners in crime?
No best friends for life, no slowing down time?
I guess that you're busy, with your job, for your cheque.
Probably not worth the bet.
And no full house? Means no family to kiss...
No building your future, no dogs, and no kids?
I guess it's hard work to lay down those bricks;
Probably not worth the bet.
No royal flush? No laughter, no tears?
No joy and no sorrow, no fun and no fears?
I guess if the bad scares you more than the good,
Probably not worth the bet.
For you, at least, that all may be fact.
You'll hold back your gambles, buy-in if you're backed.
You save up your chips for just the right hand,
And don't see that they are all equally grand.
For life may be cruel, but she gives loans for chips,
So keep playing the game until your luck flips.
So, me? Hit me, life. I'll stick out my chin.
In this game we're playing?
Hell, I'm all in.
Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 9:14 AM UTC
Void and formless
As we define it
Cold and lifeless
As we would find it
No sound from Earth
Only faint light
No hint of a soul
Eternal night
Does it really matter?
On Earth, fear becomes hope
Sorrow becomes joy
Near death
We experience life
Pluto drifts with a shrug
Sounds unheard
Emotions unfelt
Nothing grows
Nothing dies
Nothing
Is there something?
What is something?
Why is it something?
Who says?
Us?
You?
Why?
Why does it matter?
The struggles
The pain
The rights
The fear
The rain
On Pluto
History is not recorded
But the truth lives
On Earth
History is recorded
And the truth dies
We are nothing
We achieve nothing
Our death is meaningless
Life is meaningless
Our glory is measured against ourselves
Yet on Pluto
The quiet is unmoved
The distance swallows existence
There is nothing to contemplate
There are no worries
Nothing matters
We believe we matter
Why?
Who says?
Us?
We are the creation
And then we discover
Yet Pluto remains cold
Ice
Frozen
Locked
It means nothing
From a distance
Unless
It really does
The distance is so real
Our minds are so small
We only know what we know
We ignore the distance
It can't be real
It doesn't help us
So it doesn't exist
Why is it there?
It pulses in it's vastness
It means nothing
Why?
Who says?
We don't know why
We just accept it
Our past is primal
The only thing we know is our growth
It is the only thing that makes sense
We cannot touch God
We cannot see God
So, we have become God
We are progressive
We have evolved
It is necessary to think this way
This is why it matters
But... not on Pluto
Pluto is not impressed
Our evolution is swallowed by the distance
On Pluto, nothing matters
Not you
Not me
The further you go
The more help you need
The further you go
But where does it lead?
Back to Earth?
Back to you?
Who are you?
Who made you?
Who conceived you?
Who cares about you?
You?
Me?
Why are you here?
Pluto doesn't care
Should I?
Should you?
Should we?
Yes
Yes
Yes
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC
a nacreous tossing around at
the sides, a dappled silver
sunlight if looked one way, an
apocalyptic gloam if another,
exhaled from a seeming
mouth, feeding on what has
already eviscerated an unfelt
***** a predator certainly its
own prey, a heat certainly
poison-breath on a cheek
falling when a meretricious
lover spouts that spurious
hypocorism, and also just a
wavering, iridescent puddle—
cornered, soft as a liquid steel
echo of a futile struggle
rolling around, bouncing off
a wine glass, and a porcelain
table edge, while a listening
head shakes, looks down
despondently, gloom glowing
out the hair, a voice jaded
since birth saying some
thing about differences, or a
helpless slender strap of hope
hanging itself on the way two
other eyes look at it across
checkered watered wings, two
swirling god whorls, two
effulgent galaxies the color of
melting pine bole circling
around in living umber striae,
pulling its gaze, raising it, as if
they, they were blazing truth
cased behind lithophane, and it,
only an aporetic puddle now
of tepid ocher, a mild earth
stone placed in a hand, asked
what is thought of it and the
response: yes, yes of course,
before foreign distance splutters
its face, and it retreats from
its meaning imparted to every
thing (with the vulnerable
precision of a swaying finger
tip) to the baby lanugo of a
delicate floating, through
human rills, of what is horizon
docked, dead, not merely
deciduous—forever jilted with
breath bulging as when beating
a flopping eyeless fish to
half-dead, head tilted up a
throat trying to pry itself
free, trying to live by
streaming snagless, airful,
without spirant sound of going
lost straight from the hands—
then a short chop of fullness
finally expunged and sputtering
like an escaped tuft of
shackled wonder soaring up
the sky in a puff and soul ring.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 7:43 PM UTC
Love is a recycled word,
used and resused in time and again.
Love like so is that of a chliche,
brief and ultimately unfelt.
It is through its brevity that
we discover that it is all but
what it says it is.
Love is instead chaotic,
that which blurred lines
between affection and hatred
fuse into one and engulf you whole.
No one understands this more
than the veteran lover.
Whose heart has been broken and
torn and kissed together all over again.
This is loves sweet embrace.
It is vicious, passionate, understanding,
and complete insanity.
It is the turmoil that can give us purpose.
It is the purpose that will give us turmoil.
And I surrender to it.
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 10:10 PM UTC
Before the flight takes off
Before our ascent into the skies
Before I'm unplugged from the grid
Before I'm temporarily disconnected
I think about what I'll miss,
If the flight never landed.
I think about the goals unfulfilled
People unmet, sights unseen
Words unsaid, tears uncried
Emotions unshared, pain unfelt
Fights unhad, hands unheld
Stories untold, lives unlived
But most of all,
I think of you.
And feel
Hope.
Mar 26, 2023
Mar 26, 2023 at 2:28 AM UTC
Aurelia my goddess in disguise,
Let loose your spell on spectactors eyes.
Kiss with grace unknown by man,
And flutter with lashes cast wide in span.
Dance a dance unmatched by Muses,
Together so tightly the movement enthuses.
The bodys spell abrubtly breaks,
the rythm ends with conflicting aches.
Aurelia lingers on eternal moments,
Beaten back by unseen oponents.
She longs to dance with softest steps,
unseen unhindered by the rhythmic inept.
Unable to catch up to beat,
I watch and follow her leaderless feet.
Swept up in listless unfelt tune,
unilluminated by a forsaking moon.
Lost to darkness and lost to time,
Aurelia your love is no longer mine.
May 12, 2011
May 12, 2011 at 6:22 PM UTC
A wisp of gray cloud slips by
like a passing doubt.
A fleeting black thought flies
with the shadow of a wasp.
An unfelt feeling of cold fear
seeks warmth through window light.
Striped feral cat creeps too near,
sees red-tailed hawk in flight.
Time spent with toes in sand,
washed by water clear and cold.
Empty thoughts to understand,
one wave comes, another one goes.
r ~ 4/11/14
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 3:43 PM UTC
There’s an abundance of wonderful secrets I hold,
that come from the quiet, the quaint, and the bold.
Some are cute and some sweet,
all sugar-spice and neat.
It’s the others I can’t bear,
***** deeds and lives not spared.
I have to keep them all inside,
hidden away from prying eyes,
For I’m bound by a promise made of lightning,
and while I’m not quite keen on fighting,
If these secrets are found out
I’ll claw and kick and scream and shout.
For the shackles that bind me here,
will shatter after ten more torturous years.
So for now I let the rain wash away all my pain,
and thank each passing stranger for the knowledge that I’ve gained.
I think about the gallows,
I think about despair,
I think of all the people who never really cared.
You may not think you know me,
but you’re sorely mistaken.
I live next door, or up one floor,
listening when your minds awaken.
I can see your every thought and dream,
I can hear you when you sob and scream.
I can feel your touch and exasperated breath,
all dancing hot across my neck.
We are the seers
holding stories unknown
feelings unfelt
and words untold.
I could tell you anything, but you’d never know,
for I value my salvation more than a tiny truth sold.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 8:13 PM UTC
Unfelt unheard, unseen,
I've left my little queen,
Her languid arms in silver slumber lying:
Ah! through their nestling touch,
Who---who could tell how much
There is for madness---cruel, or complying?
Those faery lids how sleek!
Those lips how moist!---they speak,
In ripest quiet, shadows of sweet sounds:
Into my fancy's ear
Melting a burden dear,
How "Love doth know no fulness, nor no bounds."
True!---tender monitors!
I bend unto your laws:
This sweetest day for dalliance was born!
So, without more ado,
I'll feel my heaven anew,
For all the blushing of the hasty morn.
1.6k
Twisted thoughts aren’t awful things
They are my things!
Great things to be exact.
I wish upon a star for blood,
Blood dripping down the face of a horrible creature called a man.
Wounds so deep in his chest he can’t breathe.
Are my thoughts so twisted if they live inside soft lace?
A spider within the lace
Waiting to bite you
I’ll never hurt you but I dream of hurting other people.
People who are bad, evil, who deserve punishment.
A spider within the lace.
Poisonous. Unfelt. Obscure. I crawl in and out your body.
I dream sweet dreams of castration.
Bright and brilliant
A hidden world of rainbows
Meadows of sweet flowers
Drops of rain on ****** spring petals.
I creep between love and hate,
daisies and death.
heaven and hell.
A beautiful spider in the pollen of your bloom.
I’d cry for you. I’d die for you.
I’ll protect you.
And I’ll leave them drowning in their blood.
Eyes open. Still.
And I’ll erase it.
And take you back to the field of flowers
and the gentle rain
and I will keep you safely
tucked away there.
In the pasture, staring up at the sky.
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 11:17 PM UTC
I think of you often.
In the morning, late at night,
but those thoughts go unvoiced,
the mortal touch goes unfelt.
It’s easier to keep to myself,
to avert my gaze deliberately.
It’s safer to keep ravenous.
It’s simpler to bamboozle with silence.
Jan 26, 2022
Jan 26, 2022 at 5:55 AM UTC
Changing molds
so i can force myself
through a you shaped hole.
I cut myself Down
to the image that I think you see in me.
In the mirror I can't see myself,
Much less imagine actually being me.
Who am I?
Well, This is it.
I'm a mess and a misfit.
the one who's got it figured out
but really doesn't know ****
I'm the people pleaser
who never gets what she desires
and then wonders why the emptiness continues to transpire.
I like to deny the fact that I'm a liar.
I like to create
comfortable places in my head
where feelings can go unfelt
and things can be left unsaid.
Just a million little pieces.
My faces.
switched off and on in different places. Different phases.
A million little pieces of you
and every one I knew.
Now I can't find who I am.
Just what I was in my memories.
I can't decide who i was
ever even trying please.
At ease.
I pray for God
to break me down to my core.
To give me strength to stand up
For the things I love and adore.
To never hide behind lies,
sit back and slip
Right through your fingertips.
To be true to my soul
and really start to exist.
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 1:39 AM UTC
Fingers point in to seal what
allows waves to enter. It happens
naturally, attempting to
keep out a
sound linked to a dream.
Each day more deferred.
Singing along does
nothing but intensify it,
leaving my throat dry.
Eyes wander up
to the sky like
it has the answer. A
desire the size of a raisin.
hidden deep with in
bleakness; the
noise blinded by the sun.
Inside cues are unheard or
overlooked; left to fester.
Tunes once vibrant like
fireflies illuminating a
black field create a sore
unrecognized. Oblivious and
ignorant. Then
is what I run
away from; yet it does
not make the hum disappear; it
only dissolves the stink
to an unnoticeable hint like
bread rotten.
My core once full of meat.
I marched to the beat or
maybe it formed a crust
around all thoughts and
notified me when sugar
oozed out over
the brim of my truth. Like
examples before I fall prey to a
slide syrupy
and sweet
pulling me away. Maybe
I am scared it
will be just
perfect. Skin sags
as time passes like
light wind, unfelt; a
sensation soul heavy
fumbling to un-load.
Yesterday I began to listen or
correctly hear what does
exist confined. It
is looking to explode.
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 11:50 AM UTC
It's late and I'm tired
But I can't go to sleep
There's too much to do
Too much I haven't told you
Too much I want to hear
Too much to listen to
Too little to waste
There are adventures
not yet experienced
There are voices
unheard
There are thoughts
unvoiced
There are songs
unwritten
There are kisses
unfelt
And I have adventures to experience
And I have voices to hear
And I have thoughts to voice
And I have songs to write
And I have kisses to feel
And I have you.
Oh, you.
Who are you?
I certainly haven't found you yet
Actually, I thought I had, but you went away
Now I fear I will never see you again
Oh, you.
You with your saddened eyes
You who have endured so much
You who deserve so much more
You who I try to help but
You who shy away to
You who are gone.
gone.
gone.
It does not make my thoughts any clearer
It does not make me feel any better
It does not make my eyes any drier
to write.
But it does help the sunshine keep a little longer
It does let your kisses linger in the shade
It does help my weary head resurrect
The light from whence we came
And I know that someday you will return
And I won't let you slip down down again
And my time awake is time well spent
So I cannot sleep.
I cannot sleep.
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 6:49 PM UTC
There is never enough time.
How many words
have gone unsaid?
Forgotten
by the light of day.
Kisses unfelt.
Embraces that could have been.
Friendships and lovers,
partners and foes;
Such things that may never be.
Sure, time makes fools of us all.
But what really frightens me
are all the corpses.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 9:11 PM UTC