Puddle
She was the love
I never deserved,
She was the shadow
I could not grab.
She was the image
I could never paint,
She was colour
I couldnt comprehend
She was a gust of wind,
I could not stand.
She was the fist full of sand,
I could not hold.
She was the woman ,
who could make u kill.
She was the woman,
who could ask for your all.
Holding the pain ,
was too much.
Feeling the fire was ,
Melting me.
Now I lay down,
on the ground,
melted in a puddle
of tears and blood.
The images of
a love I though I had,
fade before me.
posted by Segwar | 11:34 AM
3 Comments:
Love is much more. All you can do is look at the right place, at the right time. Love doesn't kill; it's not about tears, not about blood....it's about a feeling of ecstasy....it's the feeling of being able to be someone you always wanted to be...it brings you closer to yourself....good or bad...it's about you. Who you are and what you can be......
"And I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I ever had"
Don't stop dreaming....otherwise you'll never know how it would end.
I agree tha love is much moere, however you might have overlooked a tiny detail in the poem.
IOts is not about Love, its about loss of love.
When I was loved I became all I could ever be...but when the rug was pulled in form beneath my feet I feell into a deep bottomless pit...n I am still falling
"the rug was pulled.." ?? so happens to a lot of people. Trust me... many have been there in your shoe.
Know that all of us are capable of standing upright again. It is your choice to make no effort and keep falling.
You can do what you want with your life, how you wanna live it. It is surely short to spend in melancholy.
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