The wall destroyed – my sanctuary opened
Huddled and afraid with no security,
My soul and heart fresh for plundering
The only treasures I had to give
Seemingly worthless to you.
An empty shell where a man used to be
A man that tried to hold on too tight,
Not able to let go of the most precious gift.
My time with you cherished and missed
The best thing ever to happen to me.
Each day I wake hoping it was a dream
Dying more each time I see the truth,
Praying to someone for your return –
Why can’t this one wish be granted?
Hoping to end this life of pain
Feverish thoughts of lost passion
Wondering always how to get you back,
Desperate ideas without lucidity
Never with you away from my thoughts
Imprisoned in my love for you.
I think it's beautiful, every time i read it (and i read them quite often) i feel such a swell of emotion it overflows in tears.
Anyone who can't feel the emotion you put into your work is either very stupid or very blind (a most telling factor, especially if they have felt similiar).
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
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Anyone who can't feel the emotion you put into your work is either very stupid or very blind (a most telling factor, especially if they have felt similiar).