As If Heartache Was A Poem

My poems have no meaning...if they don't echo your name

From a letter thrown and torn

And a line that belongs to my lost life

Just watch, as time burns and lights those poems.

 

Ink that bleeds and etches itself upon sheets

I can feel the lines of my palm

My fingers are numb of the cold metaphors.

 

Burning with liquid silver fiery tongues

For love that was not healthy enough to be writ

The discovery of astonishing abandonments.

 

Of the legends of our memories

The ones most dear who bid us goodbye

The profound miracles that then occurred.

 

And the deepest truths we felt, of love

In the beautiful city of our youth

Where our friendship was the moon of the dark.

 

These poems, they only show my sufferings

You won't read them

I know you find it just a waste of time

That's how words travel down the time's slope

weared down by gravity,

Lost like pressed roses in a book. 

Reviews

[gombeggar]

good imagery and some nice frank wordings 2, 2 read here ...dunno if i'd use 'pressed roses' maybe 'leaves' or simply 'flowers' ...just mah own take on it

[Dayran]

The poem is perhaps referring to another time in which we heard about our possible glories through word-of-mouth. Today we are getting the opportunity to view these glories with our own eyes and understanding. A young man from before must view these today with the eyes of an adult. Nice.

[Azure Montessa (Blue)]

Of the legends of our memories
The ones most dear who bid us goodbye
The profound miracles that then occurred.

And the deepest truths we felt, of love
In the beautiful city of our youth
Where our friendship was the moon of the dark.

My favorite two stanzas. Indeed friendship is like the moon of the dark. No greater simile than this one. I love the language used. :x