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By Submitted by wordley Date: 2002 Mar 31 Comment on this Work [[2002.03.31.14.45.12307]] |
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What is this substance that pours from this shattered vessel that used to be my heart, Ah,I seem to remember we called it love, and marvelled at its resilience, lts ability to withstand all aflictions. Strange then that it is now so abused and battered, its colour drained. What colour is love?....Love has the colour of the ocean of life, It is the red salt-stinging lash of tears so livid on the cheek of those who are hurt by waves of lies, It has the pink misty glide of sweat that gildes a lover's skin in the after-glow of physical release, It is the rusted key that unlocks the shackles of possession, being happy in love's release.... It was this, this remarkable essence, this timeless plane upon which we existed, This poor wretched phantom of what was once so glorious, that lies bleeding on the sands of desolation. You.... oh you, who have slaughtered this proudest of creatures, born of the feelings we shared You....oh You who has torn apart the fabric of its home and left it destitute... I wish you were here, I wish you could see that which you have achieved with so little action, A wrong word, a look, the wrong lips upon yours, the weeds of doubt sown that choked life from truth Crushed life from this wondrous cadaver, it spills it's life's blood forth in an unending stream. I could take you back if you wanted, could rebuild all you have destroyed But to what end?...I would rather remember love as the moment of perfection we had, Than all the hours of re-runs your lies possess!!! |