Hurt- Rebel Rose Anthology

Hurt in

A Sunday melting to

Monday gloom.

 

Your absent

Face,

Imprinted to

Incarnate visions

Stained upon the

Universe’s glowing

Pulses.

 

Dreaded

Leaving,

A grieving itch along the

Neck,

Record pricks to

Shifting sentiments.

 

Romantics on a

Freeze,

Mummified

Follicles

Bred

Along

A song’s cessation.

 

Naked notes

Uttered,

Too late in the

Lover’s entry,

Fires cooled

Within a music

Taken to,

Shadow sweeps

Along quiet beds

Going toward solemn cracks,

Wizened to the darkness

Losing its visage once again…

 

Love as in Silent Films

Along you went,

As vapor clears,

Vastness as your

Entry,

Time spent to its

Bottom.

 

I’ve witnessed the

Back of your suit

Trail beyond,

A click

Of the elevator button.

 

Down to its cement depths,

You’ll never face

Me again.

 

I’ll take stock,

An angry face

To burrow

In a black winter’s coat.

 

Sadness unveiled,

When the moments you

Pace in your apartment

Are allowed,

Then stitched up when you

Climb to the greatest heights

Of the skyscraper.

 

Alas,

Sighing to your mirrored

Visage in a sterile

Bathroom,

A sudden change in

Composure.

 

Those silent films

Playing in your mind.

Melancholy classical

Music droning on…

 

Will I gather you

Up,

Frame by frame,

Sleep unto dreams?

 

Will there rest on

Seas you gaze upon

Heavy foam thrown to

The shore?

 

What will death of

Love salt your

Eyes with?