In my vision she flares like sulphur,
burning shapes into my eyes.
a shape that\'s almost like her,
dead embers stoked, arise.

I take my steps towards her,
aged desires, impulse.
you stand in perfect portrait,
an image akin, yet false.

As if she\'s placed behind you,
a window marred with dirt.
softly you look towards me,
a smile that hints comfort.

I know that you are not her,
she has left this earth in flame.
but If asked with gentle whisper,
I can forget you\'re not the same.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem