deepundergroundpoetry.com

The White Fields

The ink is over
Nettled along the path-
Stopped dead in its tracks
Sometime before these ideations-
Bitter to the taste
Took root within

Her smile no longer
Tempts me; drags me away
Tenuous threads were stronger-
Than the crashing of the waves
Inelegance of reality
against the beauty of a fantasy

I am drawn towards-
Pages so blank
White as the fields where I died.
So peacefully all those years ago
The gated hole has gone
I can't lose myself again.

Nebulous hooks desert us all,
like shadows in the starlight.