Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Forsworn - 1. Poem, Forsworn
Forsworn
By bugeye
Falling back
Turning round
Shutting down
Away from knowing
Through with caring
No more sharing
Forever unknowing
Forswearing
Eyes revealing
Lips thrilling
Soul spilling
Hunger bestowing
Knee bending
Crushing
Has it been a few days
Or a few symphonies
Of existence destroyed
Love like the big bang
Just theory
Never put into practice
Love with no echo
No egress
Caught in tidal sighs
Where has this world gone
So full and brimming
To see without loving
To paint without color
To sculpt without form
It’s easy to walk across this floor… where I danced before
To sit in this chair
And void my mind of you… as if I had any right to you
Ere now
Not that this has ever happened… like it matters anymore
Gone now
Maybe it’s been meaningless… just more emptiness
Before, but this time
Expectation was so complete…
Empty, the same as full
It occupies the whole of me
Empty describes you
Almost as well as full
What I miss is what I never had
Never was I
Alive for you
So maybe I am dead now
For both of us
Indulgence my grave
If I have to live without you
Then I must live without you
Even if it means being empty
Even if it means dying a little
Being buried a little
I will survive this hard winter
I have seen them before
And you will see I am an old
Rose
That my bloom outshines the spring garden
There will always be spring for me
Empty is not about the truth
Or the lie
It is about my choice
I wanted to fill myself with you
Foolish
Is the only word I know
And found I am drained
Once more
By my choice
March 30, 2011
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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