Wreckage - Poem by jodde taylor
Howling, came to fires of night
all ashes fell, into the abyss
nowhere, could love find a place of peace
all yellow specks of dust,
hung below a solid tear.
Pieces once apart of something,
held to life, for a better moment
this the serenade, left in wreckage
by the forgotten hour.
Chance, a substitute for all endings
the grey tombstone of every goodbye
covered with vines, wrapped by wild lily's
in the vastness of a tall sky.
Gestures once felt, brought dawn too early
the night, foul with wretched ghosts
haunted the heart, once filled with roses
upon the ground, they crumbled.
A meadow overflowing,
no reeds growing, it was the valentine
of no tomorrow, etched in the hands of thunder
bringing love to it's knees,
dying over and over.
A paradise once gracious in giving,
had now became an endless trial
to love too much, a price never too high
but to lose, brought only truth by the broken
No alibis, were left to say,
silence landing upon the window pane
this love would never be again
so brutal, this wreckage
a days ending, left to the dry bound leaves.
Where all things go, to let go
laying in the soil, beneath earths toils
a rose marks the place,
where grace fell, from the arms of love.
A somber melody, plays a tune
essence drifts in and out
the open hands of a love crying out
begging to be found again.
Should you dare to walk, in the steps
of a stranger and kiss the long silence
which love imparts, when hearts are torn apart
into the misty night, no wreckage is ever discovered.
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