Sunday, January 30, 2011

Pain penetrates me drop by drop

Darkness envelopes me
Tears glisten
Threatening to fall
Pain makes it hard to breathe

I have tried to
Muffle the sounds of memories
I have blocked the visions of us
From  putting up an appearance

But who will silence the heart
That so full of love
So consumed by your presence
That it has forgotten the reality

Like a moth drawn to fire
I felt drawn to you
I knew the end was near
But it never deterred me from you

No promises given
No promises sought
Present was all we had
And it was all we needed

Then why does the heart
Wince painfully
Why does the voice of reason
Not see what the heart feels

Why does tomorrow
Promise only of a dreary life
Devoid of love and happiness?
Devoid of you?

Some are meant to meet
To fall in love and then to part.
We were destined
A no different tomorrow.

It is but a matter of time
When the dreams will be shattered
Where our castle of love
Will be destroyed

And I will trudge along
Alone, as I have always been
Bearing my cross
In hopes of finding peace.

6 comments:

Neeha said...

Your post as well as your comments makes me guess that something is not fine.
Be an optimist & never forget the future will be bright.
Take Care.

Leo said...

some memories stay even after giving up the cross borne so far, so much so you feel there is still a cross there..! even I can see something isn't fine and right... but believe that you can shape your future. take care Phoe!

Preetilata【ツ】 said...

your words speak. they are so lively so what at present they are in pain.

the silent observer said...

beautiful expression of poetic thoughts....

Neeha said...

Sweety..You are awarded in my blog.

Blasphemous Aesthete said...

Well, there seems to be too much reverie in melancholy, but watch out, the sun's shining, just for you, if you want it to.

We meet people, and get attached, though we try to hang the label, no strings attached. Yet, there are threads that are woven in time, and that get severed when there is loss. It aches, yes it does, even though we thought we lived for today and now. Yet it burns, yet it hurts.

Nice read.

Cheers,
Blasphemous Aesthete