Friday, June 15, 2007
Poem; The Treachery of Tears
Fingertips to wounding lipsAnd a soft farewellNothing of your presence now'cept the treachery of tearsAndI did not watch you goLeaving as a shadowAnd who will you be holding at the turning of the year?At the turning of the year? It wont be meNot me, not me,And that night we shared togetherWho then did your mindsee?Not me, not meIt's never me.Broken whenI found youThough you denied it then and ever stillLong before I struck youMy hand hurt naught but gossamer disguiseSo much pain in one shell of fleshBy her, from her abandmentBy him, from his abandomentThe first was second, from fading loveThe second was first, from hand of deathWere you broken when we parted?Time will have to tellButI've run this pathI know this danceI've seen this mummers farce beforeAnd ours is a twisted, tortured whirlSame tune, same steps, our hands entwinedBut our hearts beat out of timeAnd the music stops,The silence reigns,I think thatI can breathe againBut then the dreaded strings are pluckedAnd I have no choice but to ask"Would you dance, sir, with me once more?"
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2 comments:
I loved this poem! I try to write some myself, from time to time, but they never turn out any good. If you feel like sharing some of your work, join my yahoo group Netpoets. We're always looking for talented writers!
first impression - love sucks, however, the experience you've had has definetly inspired alot of poety.I like how you ended it with the thought that you have broken free of your attachment only to find yourself drawn back into his embrace. As if you feel safe with him his arms even though he makes you feel i dont know fucked up inside i guess. but as they say the greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return (cheesy i know) which is all well and good but unfortunaty with love comes hurt and if you want to be with this person then those "dreaded strings" are going to be "plucked" and more dancing commences.
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