Be strong my weary eyes
as I try to cope with the
darkness in the darkest
corners of my mind.

I try to write a story
that is true to me as
if it was yours and ours.
Yet when I write it.
It taps on black memories.

Memories that I have diluted
with the cheapest red liquor.
My blood becomes thin
yet your pain does not
make me cry for a while.

I write a song so that
others know the grief that
fills each vessel in my body.
Maybe you will figure
that my heart lingers
for something grand.

Yet I am faced with all
the small trivial objects.
My eyes search for the hunter
in the sky for hope,
because in the past he
brought me luck.

I barely see you in this
hazy dark night sky.
I try to avoid my
thoughts of you in
my gravest hours,
but it takes the blood
of grapes to remind me
of my state.

Maybe there will be another
to come and make me
feel the pain of love.
Or possibly she will
tend my wounds for now
until she is ready to
dine on my heart.

11/15/2004

Posted on 11/16/2004
Copyright © 2024 Christopher Shin