Illusion of progress
the passage of time
dull thud in my heart
my need is my crime.
Embellished by tears
worn pictures without frames
my refuge of memories
untarnished by fears.
A chapter left unending
a breath forever inhaled
flowers eternally blooming
my crime forever tending.
Move on my head implores
slam shut the doors of yore
set free the mighty prisoner
from every thought and every pore.
But to set it free would be to me
heartbreak, not once, but twice,
so in my thoughts, my heart, my blood
I will cherish this torturous vice.
by barb Nixon
Barb, this torturous vice, a perfect way of putting it! ! ! It's amazing how we are compelled to this vice. Even crave it! ! ! Great poem, thanks
This poem of yours express the tormenting feelings of your love in so real and vivid a style. I love this poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It's almost as if we invite the inevitable pain, but it does give us something to write about! Worth more than a ten!