the warm breeze

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  • Sadness

    the warm breeze

    I’m scared
    I’m so scared.
    Scared that I will die alone.
    So scared that I will never have that some one that will love me so much that they will give up every thing just to be by my side.
    I’m so alone.
    I’m lonely for that one person.
    That one person for me that I am destine to have to make my world not just a dream but a reality for me to touch and smell and see with my own hands and eyes.
    My dream is so rich I color and the breeze going by has such strong fragrance.
    The sun.
    The sun shines to bright I want to just fly to meet the flares to embrace the heat for that sun.
    But this isn’t the world I want to live in if I can’t have that person.
    The person I need.
    Without that person I see it grey.
    Still grey not light not darkness not breeze
    Just still grey.
    That is all I see.
    And touch?
    All I feel is cold that cold a blanket can’t touch
    The cold that can never be heated with a flame.
    But only with the touch of that person can the spark ignite the emptiness inside me
    So I sit in the grey
    Sit in the cold
    Sit without the touch that feeds me
    This
    This is what im so scared of
    Cold, grey, night, no breeze not sweet fragrance
    A void.
    Like the visions in the dark that could be there I just need my light that one person to be my color
    Be my light
    Be my breeze to bring in the smells for life I crave so much.
    So I sit and wait
    Wait for that person to answer my call
    Still I call
    Still you do not answer
    Still you do not answer.

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    Moonrose’s Poems (4)

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    Sleep's warm embrace 0
    The Dream 1
    the warm breeze 0
    tearing down the wall 0

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