nothing that has become

there blooms in my mind,
over the deep-lined horizon
a metastatic purple frame of your face,
you're all i see, and i'm blind
to all the bright pain and sheen of tears
i didn't know about until yesterday,
when the rain of your movement shifted
my heart to a new perspective of us,
i didn't know about the birth of an eclipse,
and the howls of longing leaving holes
and scars all over night's underside,
all the stars have left, and i fold
into an old mountain with a river
of hope in the middle for you,
without faith in what love remains,
on the darkest,naked peak of desire
burning in the farthest lighthouse
of memory the waters of forgetfulness
drags down into nothing that's become

Reviews

[Wesley Dingler]

Wonderful work. Excellent free-verse poetry.

[highonwords]

thank you so much, wesley :-)

[Alfred Kukitz]

Relinquishing yourself from a very hard pressed past offers us a real look into the kind of beautiful writing you are surely capable of. Each line a huge volume of poetry in itself.

You are, Stephanie, a writer to be reckoned with.

Regards,
Al

[highonwords]

thank you so much, al :-)

[Sami Khalil]

Hard to forget what has become. The desire is powerful. The memory is fresh. Faith is indeed what remains in the hoped for . An excellent penning...:)...............

[highonwords]

thank you so much, sami :-)

[Sami Khalil]

You are welcome. .....:))))))))