PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The roses I gave to Isis have all died.  The candies are all gone.  The dreams have been swept under the rug.  The moments we shared have soured and faded into the past.  The love letters written are mere afterthought.

I packed up my heart and emotions and threw them into a bog.  The last bottle of wine was not to be shared.  I pulled at it tearfully and vengefully.  The sweet grape was embittered by nagging self-doubt and pained anger.

I could not focus or forget.  The past has always been hard to understand and I found myself confused again.  The holy nectar of lover was tainted with cyanide.  The destructive fury of dark cynicism got the better of us.  Our chairs were two feet apart but our hearts were miles and miles apart.

The African violets wilted as the vase stood in the lucid sunlight that poured through the window.  It affected me deeply; their deaths.  But with the roses and wine all gone the reasons to continue have eluded us.  An ending that was bitter but nonetheless we knew it was absolutely necessary.