GONE
And while the dead falls asleep,
The mortal cries itself to sleep.
Mourn, agonize, grieve are just mere words.
Neither a tattooed wrist nor a melancholy melody,
Can describe the feeling of a scarred heart.
Sitting in the night sky, scattered with stars.
“The dead we truly love never really leaves us”
Say’s the mortal, numbing its pain.
How does one thrive in one’s own life
when it is trapped in someone else’s?
One should mourn plenty when it’s the time.
A delayed homage is a means of escape,
Of never letting go of what’s already gone.
And as long as one has memories of the perished,
The gone stays beneath the scarred heart.
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Want to try your hand at poetry? Email me at poeticiapoems@gmail.com
Featured image credits to RedHead1968 on Pixabay
