Wisdom has no place in the
dreams of a weathered heart
where philosophy’s reason
is vanquished by gentle eyes;
crafted from the remnants
of what used to be,
my prison of memories
fights on to stay alive.

Freedom I traded
for the fleeting beats
of a heart bound together
by the moments
you allowed me to see that
you were indeed seeing me
crafting memories into
an image of atonement.

Your gaze recalls the
passions within me
just often enough to keep
strong our secret treasure
and pleasure becomes
the pain of a memory
when you made clear our lives
were meant to be together.

Secure in ‘us’ I succeed
in moving forward
with a will built on measured
eyes and sheltered smiles
crafted from the remnants
of a would be king,
had fear not kept our
moments in exile.

 

featured photo by Sreejit Poole

10 Comments

  1. *exhales emotions held too long* This is truly powerful. I don’t know what it is about your poetry, but when I read them I feel like I understand and yet know I don’t fully comprehend.

    Like

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