I tried to write
in rage
in blood
to scratch my hatred
and find something lovely in it still
I tried to write
in love
in the sweetness of hope
and friendly innocence
the warmth of a hug under cold stars
I tried to write
in passion
hot breath on tender skin
souls melted
and the beauty of edges blurred
I tried to write
in sadness
tears smearing my world
an ache
where a heart used to be
I tried to write
in death
in the coldness of grey stone
and earth recently disturbed
I have left no mark
time releases what loss engraved
and the only voice left
is a wandering desolate wind.
There are no flowers.
Copyright 2003 cre
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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/385/20125 on Sunday July 06th, 2008 12:16 PM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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