Tuesday, March 29, 2016

My Book of Poetry


And every second slowed to a standstill,
As you turned away for the last time.
The rain drops stilled to a painful drag,
The breath left me swiftly to die. 
That night I opened the first blank page,
To smear my infinity of tears,
Slash the emptiness with the ink of pain,
Paint the words every soul fears.
Every poetry cried in remorse,
Your betrayal screamed in gothic colors,
Yet I found my peace in this world,
As page after page sewed my broken heart for another.

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