Sunday, February 18, 2007

If Only She Had Listened to Me

As I close my eyes,
My mind's eye discerns her precious silhouette
Omitting each flaw,
All to be replaced with yet more eminent beauty

I can still feel the warmth of her touch
With the comfort endowed.
I breathe the aromatic scent of her cheek
Like calming incense.

I can hear her soft, affectionate whispers
Echoing through an
Empty chasm of all I once was,
But this purely accounts for
My ingenuity of lustful memories
Anymore.

Yet I am to go on with life,
And overlook the pain
That enters my body through every pore.

I will join her,
Walk with her,
Laugh with her.
I will even guide her,
Though she refuses to allow me,
Regardless that my desire to own her,
My interminable love,
Has grown into a need.

So I consider this my call for silence.
I now have spoken the last of my words,
Laughed my last laugh,
Cried my last tear,
Breathed my last breath.

In a suffocated imagination
One can simply not exist
Without the other.

by B. David Ferrel


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