A.R. Brixton

If They Did Not Loved Me This Much

If I write, then I write
And the words
Small letters, alone meaningless

Construct the stream
Of thought, silently
A sign reflects the mind,

And again, it withers
In front of my eyes
Drops dead

Such as autumn leaves
Those, fall onto me
And like them, I die.

Ah! If they did not
Loved me this much,
Then I wouldn’t.

Pick them up,
Take them in my heart
Forever,

Such as words,
I bear, I kill,
I change and change.

For that is what we do,
Pathetically,
Day after day.

Poem Submitted: Thursday, April 7, 2005

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Comments about If They Did Not Loved Me This Much by A.R. Brixton

  • Amberlee Carter (6/22/2005 2:25:00 PM)

    very good use of imagination and turn of phrases....well done

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Read poems about / on: change, autumn, alone, heart