Of Pain And Quivering Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

A tunnel,
That stretches like scowling faces
Of the bereft sons and daughters
Of forlorn, torn and severed hearts and abandoned lovers

The light,
That does not show in the lengthy tunnel,
Scarcely proposing life and hope,
Only stating sadness, a sadness that has been conceived like fire

The rain,
The rain that fell like tridents,
Impaling these poor soldiers of hearts and minds
Onto the wet concrete that served as tombs
Flowers and tulips,

That bloom on young skin and luscious lips
And the scent that hangs upon my fingertips,
Will go astray, and then find its way back to me.
I remember vividly,

How days in cobwebbed memories,
And jaded memoirs portray
How miserable it was in the wake of your passing.
And what a troubled man I was,

Dissecting myself with memories,
A memory that has created a century of mourning
Over mornings that fall sharply into nights, never-ending nights.
And the wail that I resound, yes, the wail
And the name that razed the ground, yes the name

It is, and will always be your name,
That I will speak of, in every pain I carry as my own
Of pain and in quivering.
While I yearn for in the midst of losing.
Scalpels inside hearts that nick chambers
Please take the heart, the heart that remembers.