You are gone, and I,
disconsolate, am left here
holding all you were.
Each thought you had, each
unique and perfect feeling --
where do these reside?
I hear my own gasp
at the sudden remembrance
of all that you are.
Were. You were, and I
can't stand that you are no more.
I cannot stand it.
It leaps inside me --
clawing creature against which
I have no defense.
I project strength, but
I am eviscerated;
no one sees the blood.
In a list
.
Comments
-
Probably, "Were. You were. And I can't . . . " That's all I see. I think also that if you put the last "were" in parentheses that would be best. I'm sorry for your loss, more than you know. My mom died in 1980 and I still haven't gotten over it completely. Just do the things you want to do. That will help you immeasurably! Yours - ocerus
-
-
Thank you. Ocerus -- and I am sorry for your loss (I now know how deeply grief's roots reach).
The things I want to do are probably not acceptable by polite society
Thanks for commenting!
Lilac Moon
-
-
Humm..directly coming from the inside of the poet..touching the move
of the prompt..and brought the depth to the concept..well done... -
-
I am trying to decipher your comment, Prabhu. Yes, it was coming directly from the inside of the writer -- but what do you mean that it brought "depth to the concept" And what does "touching the move of the prompt" mean?
Thanks -- and thanks for reading and for your contests.
Lilac Moon
-
Adding your comment:
