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In your written pain I contemplated…
In your written pain I contemplated…
I contemplated...
the soul searing sadness in your phrase
awashed with it I felt myself drown,
I listened to your sharp laments in a haze,
although there is no utterance of sound.
My spirit in distress recoiled
upon drinking in the syllables,
as if within a wind they roiled
in angry overwhelming decibels.
Such was the pain I perceived,
it shred my soul with its ferocity,
your words full of emotions, bleed,
emanating bitterness in reciprocity.
You write and continue to write,
on what steals your serenity, your calm,
of events that have become a blight
and ones that cause so much harm.
It evokes a desire to comfort, nonconditional,
But, only through words are we acquainted;
your readers believe this work is fictional
yet, I feel the hurt and pain have not abated.
What can be done to erase so much damage,
I have a ardent soul-felt yearning
to halt the tears that your face ravage,
impede the path this grief’s burning.
I would that I could sooth with words that cohere,
loathsome anguish that causes you so much pain,
But how does one caringly convey: "I am here",
if never, have you in curiosity, asked my name?
Me, you do not know,
I am just another spectator
reading the words you bestow,
one of many and nothing more.
Only a name without a face,
unnoticed I pass, a deodand,
never leaving so much as a trace
or a foot print in the sand.
Aug. 2011/Edited Jan.2012
Gypsy Red
Aug. 2011/Edited Jan.2012
Gypsy Red
I contemplated...
the soul searing sadness in your phrase
awashed with it I felt myself drown,
I listened to your sharp laments in a haze,
although there is no utterance of sound.
My spirit in distress recoiled
upon drinking in the syllables,
as if within a wind they roiled
in angry overwhelming decibels.
Such was the pain I perceived,
it shred my soul with its ferocity,
your words full of emotions, bleed,
emanating bitterness in reciprocity.
You write and continue to write,
on what steals your serenity, your calm,
of events that have become a blight
and ones that cause so much harm.
It evokes a desire to comfort, nonconditional,
But, only through words are we acquainted;
your readers believe this work is fictional
yet, I feel the hurt and pain have not abated.
What can be done to erase so much damage,
I have a ardent soul-felt yearning
to halt the tears that your face ravage,
impede the path this grief’s burning.
I would that I could sooth with words that cohere,
loathsome anguish that causes you so much pain,
But how does one caringly convey: "I am here",
if never, have you in curiosity, asked my name?
Me, you do not know,
I am just another spectator
reading the words you bestow,
one of many and nothing more.
Only a name without a face,
unnoticed I pass, a deodand,
never leaving so much as a trace
or a foot print in the sand.
Aug. 2011/Edited Jan.2012
Gypsy Red
Aug. 2011/Edited Jan.2012
Gypsy Red
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