Monday, May 13, 2013

Linda M. Crate- A Poem


her silhouette marked with sadness 
slouched over, eyes burning with the tears 
of a thousand stars, shoulders hunched 
all i can offer this stranger is a smile and 
hope it's enough to chase the demons away; 
i will teach these lungs air, willing them 
to breathe; exorcise this coffin of bones — 
let the pain inside you die or else it will consume 
you into nothingness, the same oblivion 
from which dead dreams are destroyed; 
in some solitary field we stand 
nothing more than drifting snow, and her tears 
seem colder than the ice of which i slid 
and fell breaking all my confidence a year ago — 
i should have grabbed her shoulders, told her that she's 
worth more than a thousand stars dotting the 
indigo black of the heavens night; 
however, i merely watched her disappear into 
the obsidian of a starless night, 
saw her drive out of the parking lot 
wondering if she made it home all right — 
sometimes i wish i were brave enough to be the flame 
i was born to be instead of this candle i insist 
upon never giving up.

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