Rant On A Winter's Eve, Or Burnt-Out Flames Poem by Beatrice Preti

The bitter taste to sudden ends
Of stories lived with lifelong friends
One twist of fate, and flames erupt
No parting kiss, nor sweet last touch
There's nothing in the dark abyss
To strive towards, but to grieve and miss
And mourn for things which might have been
The dreams in darkness, the hopes unseen
But dreams burn out when day arrives
The sun's too bright; they can't survive
But the demons grow inside our hearts
And, with false pretenses, we play our parts
And act as though we're doing well
Hiding the demons so they can't tell
How the wounds are festering still
(Some parts of me thinks they always will)
The pain will never go away
I've disregarded what they say
Time will never come to mend
The pain from losing a dear, dear friend
It stays with you for the rest of your life
Weaving a web to block out the light
But you won't notice; the pain becomes part
Of everything you are, your mind and your heart
Still the scars on your soul will tarnish your flame
Until you too have burnt out, leaving naught but a name