There is an emptiness here.
A void the crests and wanes like my breathing,
mocked by the beat of an unholy heart.
LB says you realize when they go, the world remains,
that they weren't everything, else you'd be nothing.
Such wisdom in her perfect prose.
But wisdom never drove this train so the nothingness
remains.
I couldn't go.
You couldn't stay.
Simple really as are most of the complexities of life
when taken to their simplest form.
I shiver while the flame blazes.
I wither as I drown in my flood.
I gorge my lust on your memory as my soul starves.
You were everything, are everything.
My first thought when awake, my last prayer before sleep,
and in my arms throughout the night,
Oh to hear that soft voice, to feel those long
elegant fingers touch my skin.
You couldn't stay.
I couldn't go.
And so I must get used to the vacancy, that void you left.
The nothing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What a powerful line you wrote. The emotions and the heart fuel the train don't they. There's some great writing in this poem Grace. It's been a while since I've visited your page. I'm glad I came by. Nothing is a place.