Insipid

The heat seeps through my skin
Too numb
Too real.
And I lie here, alone.
And rule
The desolate despondency of my room
Empty, so empty.
The fluorescent lights
Too blurred, too bright.
The ceiling
Mocks the love that has long been dead.
So lost
So dry

I wish I could dream again
Of suns and moons and the stars inside her eyes
I wish I could love again.
But alas, candlelight dreams never were for me.
The orange street lamps, they don't flicker.
I can't see the stars anymore.
It's so bright here.
I wish I was dead.

It doesn't rain in this city, not anymore.
I wish I could feel again
Just once, to trace the shape of your lips.
Lost in the light.
The mirrors mock me
Those eyes that you loved
So dead
So unpoetic
So alone.
Waiting for home.

Reviews

[Paul Bell]

Quite sad this poem.
The wanting runs right through it.
You know it will never happen, but that doesn't stop the wanting.