In silence I shudder with each passing breath, the twilight stars sparkle as darkness does fall. In sleeping I dream while death's icy breath chills the remaining heart's quivers, then waking in darkness to haunting sounds as owls sing their dreams of night passed. As night brings them flight the day brings them rest, in hiding in darkness, in hollowed out nests. This clawing and scratching and screeching I feel thrashing the destructive black hole in my gut as visions of feel and of touch fade once again. This face or this glow hovering mere inches from hungry fingers, pulsing, throbbing tips, veins feeding my living cells as one touch would very well end it all. Yet to see and to breath in the sent of it all, only place upon a crown and a robe of royalty living, to be seen upon your pedestal and no oils from prints left upon your glass display. To dream is to wish, to wake into death, of sense, of feeling, from keeping this in as thoughts race furiously at the sight of something unattainable yet not hidden from sight. Each breath cool and fogged, no kiss true and true for no tender touch shall be found between, only atmosphere.In body separated, decaying to dust, yet eternally the mind lingers on these forbidden wants. In "making one's bed" I regret making mine, this bed is my shallow grave where lying I shudder waisting this breath, barely existing in this realm. The one I do not hate I wish to the most for to feel as I feel is to live in a hell more real than any priest or demon could sell, more real than of flame or a bitter ice chill striking and slashing at the torn pieces of my soul. And here it is this greatest pain resides, throbbing deep inside my hollowed out breast, stabbing the place my heart can no longer remain, an easy feast for the night's screeching owl I so gladly surrender. Yet the end it is not, only for my words to be spoken, for too real are these aching sensations once the tears have dried and gone, but all shall remain till death takes its place amongst these still living cells. Never shall a single touch reveal these truths they hold, only the owl still sings this night, the only haunting relief to be found. And as the consumption of mine shattered heart begins the only being to sing these hidden forbidden truths of this wretched reality I have found, takes it's place deep in it's hollowed out nest once again.
~*February 9, 2008*~
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almost forgot
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A great piece. You have a way of telling a great story in a poetry form. Loved the imagery "This face or this glow hovering mere inches from hungry fingers, pulsing, throbbing tips, veins feeding my living cells as one touch would very well end it all"
Amazing !
Very well done.
Keep up the great writing OpaqueAngel ! -
love the pic
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great write, very long
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This is such a very intense piece of inner turmoil; thoughts that seem to consume - in the massive course of tearing through heart strings. A love made untouchable against the grain. So much attention to imagery and detail, these emotions pour like the ice that has frozen time's seal - the cracks still shimmering a dim light of what was, but can never be. I may have just read a bit into this, but it moved me. Great write!
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Thankyou for entering my contest good luck x
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Very nice piece
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good job 'tying-in' screeching owl with nests and ultimately with 'making one's bed' very imaginatively descriptive good opening sentences - thanks for sharing regards zaj
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wonderful
I really like this one...I like all your poetry but I really like this one
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Left In The Cold
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Left In The Dark -
Beautiful...
I can't help you title it but I adore this write!!!
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