Death, Or What I Think To Be…

Death, or what I think to be a harrowing creature comes to me.
It has no shape, it has no feel, and yet its presence I surely see.
I hear no sound but silence as it sends shivers through my skin,
There was my lady, beautiful, and yet she sits alone-
A gracefulness of angels, I love I had never known.
Two places and two worlds, yet once they both were one.
A life she once lived, once loved, withered into none.

I still hear the saddened breath sneak through her longing lips
As her shadow sulked away : the sun beneath a moons eclipse.
I tell myself its only love: its vengeful return to me again.
A callous remembrance: a thought of a faithful friend.

The days, they slowly melt away…
A dying tree in its decay…

I was once her lover, she was my darling queen,
We talked of eternity and all the years in between.
A sparkle in her eye was Sirus on the darkest night,
A path that lit for me, showing me the hopeful light.

Time drips from a canvas onto the lifeless floor,
As a gentle rain brings a chill through the open door.
An empty darkness settles and the fire’s  flames all but die.
Only a fly on the wall sees a tear fall from my eye.

In my attempt to escape I drown my ears in poetry:
I listen to a man tell lonesome tales of harmony,
I listen to a woman cry for love yet wonder if I hear
Or if I take what I please and reject what I fear.

I read of a king and queen who each hold separate minds-
Through circumstance they become one, an obligatory bind.
One day the king wakes up to death laying next to him.
While his bride looks content, smiling as the light grows dim.

Tears slowly pass down the frame that holds his forlorn.
A once unwavering man of principle sits lost, alone, and torn.
How could his life turn upside, could this have be true love?
The answer is his smile: his transparent transcendence above.

Days that I do not feel pass and are forever gone,
And only a familiar sound alerts me to the break of dawn.
A whisper, once my morning, a warm breath to me cheek.
Followed by her footsteps, the floorboards reliant creak.

A light finds the room, a reflection finds my face.
While it could not be, I swear I see her living trace.
I curse to the Gods who play this folly on my mind
When I feel my heart gasp, before rescinding to her kind.

At last a smile on my face, clarity to my sanguine eyes.
My queen in my arms, my shoulder for her joyous cries.
Death,  I am sure, at last comes to me,
I bask in its sweet refrain. At last I am free.

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5 thoughts on “Death, Or What I Think To Be…

  1. I love this even as I hate this.

    Author/poet Thomas Hardy is buried next to his second wife. But his heart is buried separately with his first wife and true love. This poem causes me to reflect on his motive for requesting that.

    I will always welcome your more darker poems. Keep it up.

  2. Hi there!
    I have been having trouble finding poetry blogs to follow with real quality writing. I just thought I would drop in and let you know that yours is the first deserving one I have found – I have subscribed. Please keep sharing your words with us!

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