::imaginative introspection::

Imagine that all life is an illusion. All that exists is this moment. No past, no future, each memory, every plan, a part of the illusion. Life, in a photograph.

Do you like the image of yourself?

Thursday, December 17, 2009


viscous days without purpose
consume the person she once was.

sometimes its as if the heart is torn from the chest.

when looking into those eyes
and seeing myself reflected back so clearly.
my heart skips a beat when I turn to see your smile.
my smile in return, involuntary.
I love so freely.
So openly, I'm sure you see it.
Everyone else does.
You're so hard to read, though.

He takes my hand and holds it in the dark,
and smiles softly at the tear that comes, each time
memory of the love we never got to keep.

viscous days without purpose.

1 comment:

  1. the heartache here... so sad... but somehow also something of renewal... or at least that's how i'd like to read it... nice poem...

    and i like the lovely pic on the header of your blog... it looks like a forest near where i live... but then, maybe lots of forests look alike in fall colors...

    nice to see this post... i've been hoping you'd give us so poetry here! thanks...