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A Poem by M. David

In the wake of all things he has laid to waste,

is that awful yet all too familiar taste.

The taste of regret he has known since quite young,

and here now again it sits on his tongue.

 

And with barely a trace of remorse in his heart,

he keeps pushing away, he has made it his art.

He knows exactly what he's caused, 

though many times he's stopped and paused.

 

He thinks "I should just let her go,

but if I do, she'll never know..."

He was never one for the easy way out;

after all, that's not what love's about.

© 2011 M. David


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I like this, it is easy to relate to and has a nice flow.
Great descriptions.

Posted 13 Years Ago



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Added on June 2, 2011
Last Updated on June 2, 2011

Author

M. David
M. David

Boston, MA



About
I don't take my own writing very seriously, but I do find a certain pleasure in being able to put my thoughts into the right words. Having my work read, or appreciated, is a thrill comparable to very .. more..

Writing
After Hours After Hours

A Poem by M. David