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Literature Text
I have disconnected
breaking away from the lead-role,
she becomes my steps
and I, her shadow,
merely observing.
She bitterly destroys
the heroine of my broken narrative,
the weeping remnants
witnessing the promises
he once bestowed upon me.
His eyes, hard-edged
affection creeping around the corners
as she takes his side,
the light only I could produce
tended into a raging fire.
I am the after-thought
I am who trails behind
she becomes my steps
and I, her shadow
finding love when it is too late.
breaking away from the lead-role,
she becomes my steps
and I, her shadow,
merely observing.
She bitterly destroys
the heroine of my broken narrative,
the weeping remnants
witnessing the promises
he once bestowed upon me.
His eyes, hard-edged
affection creeping around the corners
as she takes his side,
the light only I could produce
tended into a raging fire.
I am the after-thought
I am who trails behind
she becomes my steps
and I, her shadow
finding love when it is too late.
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Another part of the back-log. Again, this was about someone, now irrelevant. I'm not a big fan of this poem. These days I'm writing things that are kind of less straight-forward.
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Comments3
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very good 