This seizes, tightens around our throats. It pushes and scratches at our eyes. Its so hard to see, to believe. The inner demons are mounting and forcing their way to the surface. It won't last, this won't stick. A pretentious dance trembling the surface, expanding despare, compressing faith. Where are you now? My hands out stretched, fingers desperately searching. Where are you now? This wool blanket itches on the skin, but its what's left, this abandonment is too familiar. It was easier this way, you knew it, you felt it, as your hate carried you away.
Its here, nothing will divert this inevitable path. I wait, ever so patiently for a faux sense of calm, for a false sense of hope. I close my eyes and see the faces of our past, I needed you then, peered through the eyes of the blind thinking you could be apart of me or me you. But its at the surface now, this cold stranger that we always knew. He's here for you, selfish is the cloak of this traveller and the face of your journey. My eyes bleed an eternity for a father with no son, but he sleeps in the shadow of the ghost that was you.
J.L. Copeland
About Me
- J.L. Copeland
- I have been writing for years, but never knew that I was a writer. The expression itself was and has always been such a personal adventure that it never crossed my mind to allow others to partake in my work. I still don't call myself a writer or a poet, those titles go to the published or established, but I hope to obtain such entitlement in the very near future. But over all, I hope that I can spark some sort of discussion. Whether it's about my work and the emotions or thoughts that it has provoked, or even just about how pitful and weak my writing just might be. Either way, it is discussion and forcing some kind of thought! I hope you all enjoy! Feel free to email me at jlcope77@yahoo.com for any reason. Enjoy.
1 comment:
And now.....I cry.
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