charcoal012

I’m beginning to see the sunset on the longest day of my life, Painted fingertips trace the outlines made by the sky, Blue. My earth, my dream, An illusion of my making. A deeper shade in the distance, An angry colour across this sky I could almost see them as they form. Passionate. Elaborate. Filled with hidden meaning. Dissipating light paints the buildings outside my window, Some houses, some homes. Literally I stand still, hold my breath, and wait. Here it comes, A wind to cress me, A whisper upon my pencil jeans, my cotton tee, A tease to my troubled skin. The evaporator of my teardrops, But not the reliever of

She takes the stage, all dressed in white, Her smile is a mere shadow, of what it used to be. Her hands are unsure, her lips, how they quiver, As if they were plucked, like a guitar’s string. Her eyes, are large shinny and bright, As they search his. Only twin onyx orbs greet her. Like steel, they pierce right through her. They are so cold, so empty, And leave numbness in their wake. She turns away, Confused and so sad. Her heart has been broken, It skips a beat no more. The hurt is so internal, She Bleeds from within. Why doesn’t he see? Why does he not feel what he has done? 25/01/09