Broken

Poetry

My love, the light that made me happy.
I search through endless suffering to renew broken bridges.
I try and turn tables.
But the tables are weak and collapse at my feet.
I wait from a word from you.
A hi, a let's talk.
But it doesn't come.
It feels like I am dead.
A ghost of a love that has passed.
I don't sing, I hate dancing,  the art that you were a muse to me, makes me want to quit living in a daydream.
A fantasy of a mirage of hopeful ideas.
I give it away.
Maybe I need to refocus.
Maybe I need to emerge myself in work.
Nothing is pleasurable.
Nothing feels right.
If this is what my life will be,
I will grow old an unhappy man.
I loved twice.
Once briefly,
The latter was supposed to be eternity.
Now I face eternity alone.
I'm a weak man,
A disgrace.
Misplaced.
On the verge of being erased.
Time won't remember my legacy.
I'm just another john doe.

Reviews

[Everett DeValle]

DEEP...you show your tenderness in this poem which shows your continuous growth in your writing...I felt the gnawing pain one feels in a loving situation. I hope you are still writing my friend. :)