ANNE P LadeeAnne MURRAY (APRIL,27TH,1944 / POCATELLO, IDAHO)
Buried deep within the corridors of her heart…
Echoes from a haunting refrain weave their tangled worn threads,
Playing on her memories...
Like the delicate frayed strings of a lonely violin
Intricately seek the depths to the labyrinth of her soul...
Creating its delicate, woven tapestry,
Of wild, tangled cinnamon roots and twisted leaves
Wounds of torn and shattered illusions roar their voices in her mind
Like a jungle of ethereal savagery that clipped her silken dreams…
Leaving her with broken wings - unable to fly
He had betrayed her with his feigned love
Leaving her void of the soothing rhythms,
Needed to bathe her wounded flesh
There was a cold, barren emptiness inside her…
Had she felt such a pillaged void in the depths of her soul
Only fractured fragments were left of her tattered, broken heart
Tears fell like foggy, misty rain...
On the delicate, shattered glass of her mind-
So blistered by love gone astray
Every fiber of her senses were unraveled and unnerved
As if she was on fire -
Leaving her skin and mind feeling like a peeled orange...
Revealing the depth and layers of her strangled emotions
She stood alone in the darkened shadows
Confused and bewildered - her body aching with despair
Darkened skies filled the air with earthy smells of oncoming storms
In the cold, dark stillness of the night...
She heard the roaring of blood curdling drumbeats
Voices of loud, rumbling thunder...
Shot their devouring bolts of lightning…
Shaking the whole of all Creation
The wind furiously whipped the ocean in roars of thunderous waves
She ran breathlessly - seeking a fortress of safety...
The drumbeats followed her every move -
Filling her with a sense of pending doom
The whole Earth filled with echoed songs of past, remembered moons
He didn't care that he left her heart broken and tattered...
Leaving her frightened and abandoned in the night
All she had left was her broken heart
She stood alone - cold as ice, drowning in her tears
Shivering and afraid, weeping...
Her heart wrapped in tragedy, inside a wall of steel
Comments about this poem (Cinnamon Memories by ANNE P LadeeAnne MURRAY )
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