Is it pretending or wait, awaiting,
that you don’t live, walk the same streets.
Breathe the same air, bleed slowly.
Pierce my heart and lungs forcibly,
exit mistakes and entrance lessons we’ve wept
openly.
In some day, some day, some day,
we will replace broken dead bolts of heartache.
The blood veins of broken vessels
spoken in words that tore our souls in half.
The agony of our betrayal and loss.
Living in lands of maybe, maybe, maybe,
you’ll find that smile once again.
Hear the sound of your own laughter return.
I’ll hold you close and we can be, once again.
For now I am lost in echoes of empty closets,
garments of love loss.
Listening, pretending, tenderly hoping,
for the sound of your voice.
The step of your walk upon my front porch.
Letting you go….. took all the courage I had.
Keeping you close in memories.. more,
Then I ever knew I had the strength to grasp.
I set you free,
To trade in your syringe of pain,
in exchange for your soul once more,
unbound and released.
I await your tender return,
Some day, some day in maybe, maybe’s relief.
Is it pretending or wait awaiting,
for doors to open once again.
A mother grieves & holds on tightly,
for the heroin recovery of her daughter boldly.
Hoping she will discover the meaning of faith,
the gothic lettering tattooed upon her back.
Honorable winner
Adding your comment:
a good poem here, i like the positive aspect i picked up on, aye laughter is always there to sooth, even when i am crying i am laughing too, just to be awkward to myself 
