The Quest for Brighter Tomorrows

I spend most of my days

dissolving my heart in a liquid

pool of bitter memories

as I gaze at the horizon line

from my third story bedroom window.

 

Things will be better in

New York, I breathe to the stale

air and the birds perched on limp

branches, broken under the crushing

weight of a virgin snow.

 

I dream of my new loft high

above the electric streets and glowing

lights, where I stare down at Tom’s

Restaurant, crafting the next great

American novel from scratch.

 

Things will be better in

Paris, I mutter listlessly to my blank

pages and bone dry ink jar,

my mind, heart, and soul lost in the

gutters below, drenched in oil soiled rain.

 

I sip an oaky wine while my thoughts

float through cherry scented air

towards the Eiffel Tower and freedom,

the eternal orange evening pushing

them back, lingering like yesterdays.

 

Things will be better in

the grave, I mutter vacantly to

the beautiful rivers and carousels,

because then my saddened burdens will

break, and I will be free forever.

Reviews

[annabellee]

I really liked it. you've expressed your feelings so well and I loved the imagery. I could see you there in paris.
well done :)

[Ruairidh]

There is a sustained tone of sadness to these stanzas, and though hope is glimpsed, this is quickly tinged with resignation. Though the subject matter saddens, it is an honest and elequently expressed piece. The use of adjectives such as 'bitter' 'stale' and 'blank' in the opening stanzas drew this reader's attention to the 'beautiful carousels' of the last verse - a poignant image that has stayed with me despite the sorrow here expressed. Thanks for posting.