by Marc Lionhart11 Jul 2013
Certain events have caused my image to change.
It would appear we have grown out of communicative range.
It is evident my words for you are constricted to the page.
Memories of wonder, present at rage.
I can only beg you to find me in this void of which I dwell.
Will you find me, even time wouldn’t dare to tell.
If I swim within the vigorous sea, lifeless
Would you attempt to save me? Lifeless.
However many stanzas I write, I can’t shake the feeling you have died.
See how formless I have become? I can’t see you without light.
But you are the quietest soul, a gift to me untold.
I feel lost without your face to touch, your body to hold.
Why discard this gift? Not even I could say.
Losing it was far too harsh; I may have lost my way.
Missing you is not nearly enough, I need to speak.
Missing you becomes tough, day by day, and week by week.
I sometimes attempt to reach you, but you send me elsewhere.
This I cannot blame you for, not when knowing me is hard to bear.
I have been unstable since losing you, and I can only care.
Finding you again, will unearth me from this nightmare.
I am asking you to talk to me, so we can be alone.
I can feel it in my bones, that I will feel your lips against my own.
You remain a white hot flame in this darkness I see.
Should I venture into my claim so damn fervently?
Talk to me would you please? See what I see.
Smiling with you as we are harassed by the breeze.
Summer became a time for laughter and memory.
I was awoken to the notion of love contracted by a lease.
I gave you up for an easier existence, and I fell hard.
Seems our bond was daunting, and I never knew where to start
So I cried for a while, lied to your face
But slowed down life, to later increase the pace
I miss you always.
The stanzas become shorter.
Losing the will to create.
Flaunt these feelings I launder.
Don’t lose me, dear lover don’t lose me. Please.
Please, talk to me.