Obtuse
The quill occupies
a quivering hand,
animates my thoughts.
Justice not done.
A distended heart cries,
to you it sounds
like another sound,.
The melancholy, unheard.
Each time you slip,
off your contour,
I blush.
A weakness disclosed.
Memories, soured
by stipulations,
You struggle to forget,
Wounds re-exposed.
For the unattainable,
I try,
And never tire,
Perseverance assessed.
My pain, never shared,
scrutinized by
your reproachful eyes,
Condolence missed!
Day by day,
I age.
The dead parts wither.
I wait.
Wait for the tears to taste sweet.
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superb GOLDHAWK. very good....keep it up:)
ReplyDelete"quivering hand," plenty of emotions conveyed by a few words, extremely mature choice of framing a short sentence."to you it sounds
ReplyDeletelike another sound,." a direct conclusion, powerfully depicted.
"blushing had been compared as a weakness, another mature selection of phrase."
"For the unattainable,
I try,
And never tire," optimism par excellence.
"My pain, never shared," sounded like a vengence which can be the base of something positive to some... a motivational pull from within again.
"I wait.
Wait for the tears to taste sweet." a remarkable ending... amazing way to put up the thoughts again!! i loved this... will surely stay with me for a long time!! keep it up!! very impressive