deepundergroundpoetry.com
m o m e n t u m
Still and silent,
this jilted heart:
momentum gone--
no spark to start.
Tense and tight,
this parch'ed throat:
wizening spurn
that squelched My troat.
Fingers forfeit
this empty hand:
with naught to touch,
the sense does strand.
Embraced no more,
this hollow chest:
no cheek to ease,
nor palm to rest.
Limp and longing,
these pining limbs:
lorn, they lack, like
church without hymns.
Begrudg'ed breaths
do feed these lungs:
words departed;
last song was sung.
Curst, I cast-off
these worthless ears:
volute echoes ...
love's easy tears.
Still ... so silent,
this jilted heart:
momentum gone--
no spark to start.
this jilted heart:
momentum gone--
no spark to start.
Tense and tight,
this parch'ed throat:
wizening spurn
that squelched My troat.
Fingers forfeit
this empty hand:
with naught to touch,
the sense does strand.
Embraced no more,
this hollow chest:
no cheek to ease,
nor palm to rest.
Limp and longing,
these pining limbs:
lorn, they lack, like
church without hymns.
Begrudg'ed breaths
do feed these lungs:
words departed;
last song was sung.
Curst, I cast-off
these worthless ears:
volute echoes ...
love's easy tears.
Still ... so silent,
this jilted heart:
momentum gone--
no spark to start.
Published 24th Aug 2018
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26th Oct 2018 2:32pm
