March 27, 2011

A playful Muse

I ask not for thine sweet words
For which mine eyes now see
My ears hear or this heart feels
Yet whisper upon thine own page
Wrap me into thine written words
So it holds our heart together
Letting thoughts be as one

A muse runs wild:
when both hands were placed upon the table
the ax that you removed them with was not swung
with love, understanding or pity yet
boldly hurled around as if none were there
a game like blind man's bluff so no guilt
will rest upon thine own shoulders
surely now no fingers can point back at thee

March 6, 2011

Last Reply

The last reply
Not grisly stuff
Not smiles and sunshine
No blood
No tears of sorrow
We’ll skip death today
We’ll skip a tender touch
Gone is deep depression
Gone to are dreamy eyes
Nothing remains
Nothing of me