Rumination

by DarkLight   Jul 19, 2015


I wish to write of romance,
but I find no chance.
Beautiful it could be, but of flowers,
would remind me of my past lovers.
I stop as soon as I start,
drawning in memories of my first.
The way she kiss,
sure that I miss.
Her catwalk,
not what I wish to talk.

Perhaps I should write about us,
and forget about cars.
What are we but dust,
manipulating words to make it art.
I guess that is my first,
a factitious way to forget my past.
Will that really work?
maybe, but it's just my mark.

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Latest Comments

  • 9 years ago

    by Camellia

    We are but dust ,
    manipulating words to make it art"

    I love these lines.
    I like this poem. Great !