Poetry as passion 2
Bulldoze the bed where we made love,
bulldoze the whole room.
Shattered pieces of glass are reflections of my hearts pain.
Forget about the clock on the wall that once told us time was on our side.
May the hands fall off.
Flames of my anger burn with the memories I see in pictures,
my soul withering away, the color fading like a rose in the throes of death.
Forget about the damn dreams that I held filled with smiles and laughter.
Damn the thought that love was mine to keep, but more like a butterfly that could not
I walk my path in silence.
Now the darkness of the night is a reminder of my loneliness.
The house is empty.
Shadows cover its light. The happiness that was once there is now exiled into someplace
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