The blood bleeds,
and my head strains
as liquor of time
drowns at the heart
of my bruised eyes.

Sadly fantasy and
broken suns hardly
compare to the
darkness in my heart.

Sullen am I when
you left me with
the mess that seems
to bombard my thought.

No long love,
and streams of disappointed
facts and opinions slowly
come to light.

Yet you hardly know the winters
that blunder past me.
How forgiving you are
when the drunk can only
rant about years gone by.

I miss you, old me.
How you were so determined
to prove the world was against me,
and now I'm only barely speaking
about it now.

Slowly you forget, but slowly
I was loved and gone.

06/03/2007

Posted on 06/03/2007
Copyright © 2023 Christopher Shin