Three-hundred Sixty-five Days


Sweetness becomes bitter
As wine soon tastes of blood
Vows have been made
Which can not be undone
Reality settles in
While fantasy slips further away
The only hope remaining
Is to hold on for just one more day
Angry words cut like razors
Oh! How sharp is the tongue!
But chains have been cuffed
That can not be undone
The flame slowly dies
There is no fire within
Hoping for happily ever-after
but finding not a friend
I don't know what happened
I can't tell you who's to blame
Of a truth I can say..
Both of us have changed
We danced in joyful splendor
Perhaps, having had too much fun?
Now confidence has been broken
And that can not be undone
Happiness turns to misery
As laughter turns to tears
Three-hundred and sixty-five days, gone!
But, we've made it through another year!

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem