WidowA Poem by Cole O'ConnorThis is a poem written about a man who's wife has died; and now he is left with sorrow and nothing, except the title "widow"My lungs soak in weeping tears, Exhaling the sorrows of a widow. Beating chests strung on your vanity You are the shadow aside me, following my lonesome psyche The sunsets switch to igniting stars, Knit picking each fragment of my abundant scars. I allow you to break down my composure. Precisely investigating my frail structure. Your essence eternally departs an anonymous afterlife I held your ring finger like a fitted handle; purely naive. Consequences seep alongside my grieving despondence I am a deserted soul; tongue-tied with encumbered inhibitions. My love for you has reached a ceaseless plateau. This catastrophe has rung my yearning aspirations. Standing next to your grave, the crows circle above. Conjoining itself within the darkening gloomy clouds My habits have bit off my anxious nerves and the skin to my lips. I commit this sorrow inside incompetent inhibitions By what method do I communicate these trailed woes. Insinuations laced upon your name; condolences drown my brain. I awoke in a scandal, which has reformed my existence wholly. Sequences mourn through the memories of our ever longing love. Today I kneel with my head sunken low; a lifetime of being a widow. © 2013 Cole O'ConnorAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorCole O'ConnorVernon Rockville, CTAboutI'm Cole. I am 18, male, taken, vegetarian, atheist, musician and writer. I write mostly poetry, lyrics, prose, and short stories. I'm looking for friends and people who would like to share and .. more..Writing
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