A poem simply sounds the bell, of that which words could never tell.

BITTERSWEET

The hand of grief
Tore out his heart
And cast it to the ground,
Not to steal it,
Like a thief,
But reveal the contents found.

Bittersweet, bitter and sweet,
To find his heart beat incomplete.

The earth stained red,
Blood turned to clay,
And naught worth keeping there did lay,
No fondest thought or word retained,
No precious lover's pearl remained
Beyond that moment, past that day.
Fast was seeping all away.

Bittersweet, bitter and sweet,
To find his heart beat incomplete.
Post a Comment