A Speck of Glacial Blues Flung.
Updated on January 30, 2010
A Speck Of Glacial Blues Flung.
Upon Decembers
white canvas stretched,
I am a speck of
glacial blues flung.
Brushed off by her
cold shouldered rendering
in the heat of her
rage tempera-mental.
Depressions mark
my path in the night,
ice-olation surrounds
me, in still life as I journey
to find loneliness once more.
My oldest friend who
will wearily greet me,
for I'm seldom good
company when grieving,
the return of what he
and I've shared.
Listless nights spent
perusing the photos,
of the moments enjoyed
by her side.
Stone cold silence
and many sad dirges,
on a round bodied
ovation strummed.
T.V. dinners, bland pulp,
left half eaten,
while he squats full of guilt,
and reminds me,
of how love once sat
wrapped in my arms,
with his empty gaze
draining my soul.
Soon enough I'll
abandon his offering
of the bitter cup
sorrow has poured,
until then we'll sit
staring together,
at the blankness
of this season alone.
©-MFB III