Saturday, May 17, 2014


Tracing phrases from the dying flame
Stirring the ashes as the smoke wistfully retires
There’s no salvaging the passionate burns

Drawing quiet utterances with bowed eyelids
Drowning incoherence in the midst of purpose
There’s no salvaging bruised egos

Oh I suppose I could walk away with my head still underwater
Words are empty, but our bodies emptier still
Vessels of fleeting existence
Storm clouds of unmet intentions

The fool I played takes the curtain call
I will nurse my regrets silently
As I watch you take leave

Without my overdue apologies   

No comments: