Hanging On.

It’s early morning.
You were late last night.
I’m a wrinkle colder.
Your heat is still quite right.
An abused reflection
Calls back my will to fight,
Since absolution long since died,
In the barrenness of past nights.

Passion sputtered out
Like oxygen on the moon.
The stars are burning out,
They’ll lose their light soon.
Love is now sympathy
Given to a blubbering whale
Disemboweled by some harpoon.

What of the time lost?
Who knows what you do now;
How much sensible truth
Will conscience allow?
We both cling on like idiots
To some ill-spent, ill-matched vow.

It’s early morning.
You’re snoring in a heap.
I do not even seek
Any inclination to weep.
All I ask from this burning day
Is a quieting chance to sleep.

21st April.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s