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738
by William TeoThe days had spilled
from within my palms
filling the earth
with life's regrets
Empty is my heart
but yet it aches
My wound to bleed
till the end of days
Seven and hundred
long I had waited
eight and thirty
and still I waited
Love had spilled from
my feeble grasps
And pain had reigned upon
my bleeding heart
Long (since) the sunder
of my heart
Alas, time had still not
done its task
Seven and hundred
it haunts me so
eight and thirty
I love you still 06/08/2004
Author's Note: 738 days since my breakup, and the pain never goes away... and i could never stop loving her...
Posted on 06/08/2004
Copyright © 2024 William Teo
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Ashok Sharda on 06/08/04 at 06:14 AM 738 days? Well, its a long period on our scale of time. But...but how about the associations which are as alive as now and... and every thing external and within which is so emotionally attached to these associations? Associations are hard to die. Very hard. Not even in dreams. Its a sad piece. |
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