When You've Slept Too Late

A heart that burns,
flames that rise, swallowing it whole,
consumed by runaway passion's flow,
and tempered by the breezes that blow,
only amounting to ashes... in the end.

Only memories of sweet tastes on my tongue,
... remain.
Ghosts of a time now passed, haunting my every day,
vast oceans pass between what is now and has been.
A longing as hope returns... a silence as it fades,
like the morning dew, when you've slept too late.

Reviews

[Everett DeValle]

Beautiful emotions in your poem, Aramey...some times, one is kept up late because its too good to sleep that early. :)

[Aramey]

Very true, I love hearing your thoughts after you read my work, very intuitive :)

[Everett DeValle]

You are very welcome, Aramey...Likewise, your thoughts are a pleasure to read, as well. :)