Lonely Echoes Poem by Shameca Biggs

Echoes of loneliness was his name.
Words and Story was the game.
We fell in and out of prose.
He the Thorn; I the rose.

She was graceful but cold.
A falling snowflake.
Regal yet rigid; both young and old.
She entered my heart & shook my soul only to forsake.
Her cruelty like Poetry In Motion, too harsh to mold.

Then there was the Joy Demon in all his charm.
Psychotically sweet; warned with all the bells & alarms.
I rode the waves of the ocean with him anyway.
Kissed his feet just to be held in his arms.

Another demon dressed in white.
Another cold and star less night.
Another lover with another plight.
Another darkness to smote out the light.

And through it all; the lion, the wolf and the tiger.
The swan, the dove and the spider.
Still here I stand undone.
And though undone; the battle I won.

For at the place where love and lust once met
At the root of my resolve where many nights I wept
The creator preserves my All; softened the fall.
My heart has not failed me yet.