Sunday, August 9, 2009

Bag of Bones

I watch the door in suspenseful hope of your return,
Black wood encasing red like the stone around your heart,
That prevents love to seep from you at any crevice,
Through any pore,
If there is any love left in you that is,

My shattered thoughts have wandered, aimlessly,
Into the folds between realities and fantasies,
Wishing you would find me there and quixotically indulge me,
Just once in a midsummer night's dream,

But dark skies weep a black & chilling rain,
That falls in waves, so lost over a world that weeps as well,
And I, I am just sitting here on your couch,
Wrapped up in a blanket that provides about as much warmth as your arms,
Absent-mindedly sucking the life from my last cigarette,

Your mirage has faded from me finally,
Blown away on a hot morning breeze,
That has left me, stranded in a desert once more,
Forcefully ignoring the fact that I've been fooled yet again,
I move onward towards the sight of green,

But I know, yes I am certain,
That it is always just another hallucination,
Another ghost of happiness in the distance,
That once I reach, will somehow vaporize into air,
Leaving me here, having been alone all along,

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