the fire slowly eats
the crisp white paper
watching as something whole
becomes burned,
tattered by a slow flame
like the saddness
that slowly picks
at my burning heart
my heart loves
with a passion,
the people in my life
the friends I call family
whom I would die for
but yet they don't know
can't see the sadness
the fire that is eating at my heart.
I slowly watch the paper disapear
and burn to nothing
nothing left but ashes
but will the ashes of paper
be able to tell the story
that was written on the paper?
Will the ashes of my heart,
tell the story of whom I loved,
once it's disenegrated
by the flame of saddness?
Author notes
Written June 26th, 2006
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hey girl great job here...sorry ive not been online much lately soon i will write a poem so everyone will know whats been goin on...hope your holidays were great..take care peace...
~~DI~~ -
tears fall wherein the heart lies
leaving one feeling empty.
yes there are times when even family can leave one sad.
wondering where the forgivenes is even found.
I hear you loud and clear!
well expressed here!
Keep penning on one stroke at a time!
Bill -
It's very sad
And really good!
"once it's disenegrated" Do you mean disintergrated?
Oh so good, haven't read anything from you in ages, and it's a really good one to start back with.
Here if you need to talk.
Ju xxx -
Thanks for the comment and the suggestion, you're totally right about breaking it up there.
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oh that's very sad, and rather pessimistic. Still, you made use of a great metaphor. One suggestion: Why don't you try separating the lines into stanzas between these lines? I think it would read better: "at my burning heart
my heart loves with a passion"
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