The Desolation of Verse

This is an early draft so it's still a little rough.

The Dissolution of Verse

 

I loved a man and the poetry

we created came alive

                                            in my bones.

And it pleasantly gnawed and grinded,

until I begged for the release of paper.

             

The words were beautiful and enough.

They were my

                                 wine and bread

And I never felt the ache of want .

 

                                  

Though as the years passed the words

slipped away

                                      into the night.

They no longer would speak to me

but filled  my ears with silence. 

I was haunted by

                          phantom  sensations

 in the marrow.

 

 

Like the missing ring from

around my finger

                                  that  I used to play with.

Rolling it around with my thumb . 

It’s a reflex that hasn’t gone away. 

Yet only the skin remains, bare. 

Reviews

[LastMonth]

Great poem.
Well written.

I'd love seeing you try to pen up a story. I think it'll suit you well.