I sing for you
Still
After all these years
From the dark lonely hallway
Outside your door
Where you and your Life
Now live
You,
My spilt part,
Just an old violent stain
On the floor
Now
Knelt before
Scrubbing and scrubbing
By candle light
I know
You’ll never come out
Clasping tired sore hands
Before my chest
Hiding my hole
As I lean to the floor
Had I only known
How painful the Pain
How completely Defeated
One could be…
There are no prayers
For the Damned
Forlornly walking darkened halls
Filling their holes
With the wax of long white candles
They protect from darkness
They protect from time
Filling their lives
Not lived
Singing old songs
At long closed doors
Themselves, spilt.
Austerberto R. Palis, Jr.
September 17, 2005; 04:00am
Copyright 2005 Austerberto
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