In spirit
I hear it.
but I will never find any form assuming yours,
for this they have no remedies or cures.
From passions to the dust that spread your form across the floor
and many more the days will pass
within your passing,
everlasting, evermore.
And gray is now the color that the world is painted in,
and thin to watch the shade expose the skin.
A reminiscent cry into the night to bring you back
again has failed,
I remain,
Beneath the rain your stone is in,
within the frame, without avail
without a reason to this state
I'm sleeping in,
the nightmares amplified by sin
are marred by my denial.
While every second's passing
through the cracks between the tile...
Author notes
http://lostinajungle.deviantart.com/art/Clinging-to-What-s-Dead-68307396
was my selection. Requesting permission to use picture title for poem.
A contest entry
- Photo Options-Images of a World by Carpe Noctem.
500 points, ended April 12, 2008, 17 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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