It is,

your last thought before falling

into the night’s embrace,

the hands around your throat,

when you choke out confessions.


It is,

the blood that you spill,

the wounds that you bear



It was what you don’t have,

what you want to be,

what your mind wishes reality

to be.


It is longing,

it is hope,

it is laughter,

it is agony.


Ephemeral words would not

bring back,

the unceasing glances.


A simple touch,

would not bring back,

the supple hands around

your beating, battered heart.


Irrevocable tears,

when your heart tears,

just won’t bring back,

what’s already fallen between

the cracks.


All you are left with,

at the end of the day,

are memories tainted with

loving lies.


All you have left,

is their shadow,

their silhouette,


their ghost.


16 thoughts on “Yearning

  1. Reblogged this on Perso~in~Poesia and commented:
    I disappear a lot and when I come back I stumble on a new or one I haven’t visited before. This is another case of the same scenario. Please visit directly to Whimsicalthrad, read and enjoy. Oh and follow along. M sure there will be more stunning art to come.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Hi whimsicalthread. Such a great poem. Thank you for liking mine ‘Throwing!’ Memories can often give us strength. But can also be depressing and you just do not need to be reminded of mistakes and regrets! Thank you for wanting to follow my poetry adventures. Very interested in all things paranormal conspiracy theories that often have a lot of truth and observing life. Writing to me is a passion that keeps me sane and alive! Great to meet you. The Foureyed Poet.

    Liked by 1 person

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