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Poetry by MJC
From Sullivan's Short Stories
DEATH OF LOVE
A POEM IS WRITTEN IN LOVE'S DESPAIR.
HEARTS ARE WRITING WITH A FREE HAND.
HANDS ARE DIRTY, TIME TO WASH THEM AGAIN.
A DREAM THAT I ONCE HAD, ONE NIGHT IN WHENCE
IT ALL BEGAN.
FALLING, TWISTING, TURNING, WRITING OF LOVE
GONE AWAY, OF PASSION ASTRAY,
OF DEATH OF LOVE, A WHISPER AWAY.
THE FIRE CONSUMES US, IT BREATHS AND GROWS,
A WINDOW TO THE SOUL.
SEARCHING ENDLESSLY FOR WHAT WAS LOST.
IS NO LONGER THERE, GONE FOR ALL ETERNITY
WITH MY OWN HAND.
NO LONGER ANY FEELING OF LOVE OF LIFE, OR ANY FOR YOU.
YOU MADE SURE OF THAT WITH YOUR COLD, CRUEL WORDS. YOU STABBED MY
HEART UNTIL IT BLED TO DEATH, WHATEVER FEELING IT HAD LEFT.
MJC
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Lost
I've lost that magic, that spark of the divine.
Like withered fruit upon the vine, I am all but dried.
Gone is the fire that once was there.
I feel only life's despair. Like a smothering flame
that is burning out, my lust for life has been beat down.
Will I rise again to conquer this pain? Will I fight to live
through life, though it seems insane? Yes, I will rise once
again.
MJC
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