it drifts down
dolomites of death
hanging over our heads, as grief
drips, drips from our heart
it breathes in cave air
punctuated with shadows
light streams in
my lips
an open sore
a gap of time
with no tales
Where to go?
breath
alone, and along the way
I pause to say …
but you are not there
within those corridors
along lonely halls
wandering
stumbling past triggers
you are not
here
holding my hand
once again
as I held yours
we watched geese mating
instead
sitting there
exposed
in that blue gown
thinking
this is not how
its suppose
to be
even if I can not see
he took advantage of me
Nice work.. liked it..
You might also like this poem
http://keyisinspiration.wordpress.com/2013/12/16/how-my-love-story-ended/
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