Tuesday
Wake up Stan
Blue, like a petal falling, on the battered floor crying tears, trying to make sense of it all.
I try to shut it out but your image goes back and forth in my mind, entering like a wave that wont ever cease.
I scratch at the surface trying to find peace. But its so dark now. Just a fleeting moment and oh how you touched me.
Did you hear us breathe down on you?, only to protect you in vain. You are the shadow in my mind and the never ending voice that only spurs me on to defeat.
Stan, look how the river runs smooth, it shimmers in the sun on this glorious day. Beautiful as it is dark. I hate this silence.
Yesterday how we wept. Yesterday, my faith in anything washed away.
Like yesterday, you will be back no more.
Wake up Stan. Please. If only we could turn back time instead of beating on a battered floor.
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Oh my. I like what your Muse tells you to write.
ReplyDeleteI loved this: "You are the shadow in my mind and the never ending voice that only spurs me on to defeat."
Perhaps it's my celtic melancholy that caused me to latch on to that, but it resonates deeply for me.
Good work.
Thank you. I appreciate your comment :)
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