XXVII

XXVII

Friday, November 29, 2013

Hopeless to Hopeless

Where has the romanticism gone?
(Just her growing despair
On reel to reel)
The violins strike the soul
Like lightening under the clouds
The past once were...
Always nostalgic 
The pain we can't ignore.

Leave hopeless to hopeless.  

Natural light
Turns sepia
Bleak and cold...

7 different endings 
In various shades of optimism  
Not one gets the point across... 

Her eyelashes are matted with tears 
The Ghost of my forbidden lover 
In shards.. collective. 
I cannot repent furthermore...
I cannot live without the security 
That we are more than just a mass of cells  

To simply reality
Without first understanding 
Where your faith lies the most. 

The Ghost of my forbidden lover 
In shards.. collective. 

Where has the romanticism gone?

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