PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

It was in your last vivid

success on paper that I

realized why my fingers

have been bleeding

They are sore and cold,

and they clench tightly to

the fact that this fascade

is far from over



I am balancing the beam between

metaphor and truth

Which one should I give you

It has been the hardest choice to

make for the past three years

And I have failed, in my heart

I have failed, in my hands



I am tired, exhausted, and

greatful for that mark in

which you left

It was in utmost respect and dignity

And we have left it as is for a very long

time

When I say I carry it in my veins, it

is no lie

No falsity

No dramatization my friend

I carry it with me



And for the life of me, I do not

know why I cannot just let it live and

go with that wind that you speak so

knowingly of

A short, quick beheading to the revolutions

and the sleep

But what to do with you?

I could not bury you, for I would know exactly

where you hid



And I could never let you die, in peace