no joy to be found where it use to have been,
books are shelved, gathering dust,
while clothing and tissues litter the floor.
None of her happy past times
can put a smile across her tear streaked face
nor dry her red glassy eyes.
She sulks and starves as she feels herself withering away.
Every night she prays and begs
for him to come back to her
paint the world in colors again
sketch a smile across her love struck face
and paint the happiness back into her broken heart.
Everything seems to be losing its colors
while she is quickly falling apart.
Anything I can improve?
Comments
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Yes, I love the second stanza as well; the image of him being the only one to "sketch a smile on her love-struck face" or "paint the happiness back into her broken heart" is very powerful but I must admit that to have such expectations of us, the opposite gender, is to invite disappointment. While we pretend that we are capable of such grandiose illusions, it is, alas, just that - an illusion. Nonetheless, it is a beautiful image.
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Love is a terable... emotion... keep writiting from your heart... JackReed3..
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awesome!
This is really good.
The second paragraph is a lot stronger then the first but I still love it
good write!!!
♥
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