twenty eight

These still frames I put on my minds shelf
wondering when the pain will heal itself;
This ink I carry on my arm evermore
not the only mark as you close the door;
This lesson I seem in time to be learning,
of my haste that’s been our undoing,
still aflame burning bright and searing,
throws my reflection to grey brooding;
That peace you brought has remained,
a happiness that lays unchanged,
above the struggle surrendered,
surrounds the heart now sundered.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.