I know this place. Cold grey walls and a cement floor.
Dim light on a wilted rose. Next to a door slowly closing.
Trapped within a mist of sorrow, the scent of broken dreams.
A single chair on which I sit. Eyes closed, hands clasped.
Tasting salt from my tears. Asking only why.
I've never been here, yet I know.
Photographs deceive my eyes telling a story that never was.
Blown quietly to the past, denying the time, denying the place.
Pithy poems in golden pen my only desire to believe.
Heavy meaning once rich, now hollow. Only ink. Only paper.
Silence fills my ears where once came music from my heart.
Now I listen only to the wind. She is cold and hard, but tempts me not with hope.
I know this place. Cold grey walls and a cement floor.
I've lost my way and found my fate. Faded heart and a single chair.
I long to find my dreamless sleep. Asking only why.
"Heavy meaning once rich, now hollow. Only ink. Only paper."
This line says so much. I think, as writers, most of us have been in this space at one time or another - and, sometimes, for far too long. Expressive work here... keep writing.
Dim light on a wilted rose
Next to a door slowly closing
I can hear the sound of the door
closing , and a trapped feeling
entering your grey world. This
touched me deeply. I suffer depression
and sometimes the grey walls and cement
floor is mine. Awesome write... it
speaks volumes!!!!
Blown quietly to the past, denying the time, denying the place.
Pithy poems in golden pen my only desire to believe.
Heavy meaning once rich, now hollow. Only ink. Only paper
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This line says so much. I think, as writers, most of us have been in this space at one time or another - and, sometimes, for far too long. Expressive work here... keep writing.
Tami
This is truly a beautiful portrayal Colin... And, again I shall pray for God to remove the coldness the pain far from your heart and soul.
Next to a door slowly closing
I can hear the sound of the door
closing , and a trapped feeling
entering your grey world. This
touched me deeply. I suffer depression
and sometimes the grey walls and cement
floor is mine. Awesome write... it
speaks volumes!!!!
~~Linda~~
Pithy poems in golden pen my only desire to believe.
Heavy meaning once rich, now hollow. Only ink. Only paper
Loved this part.. Excellent
"Heavy meaning once rich, now hollow. Only ink. Only paper."
Jenni