Sunday, April 19, 2009

Last Night

A light shines,
It breaks these clouded eyes.
I cover myself,
A glass is no disguise.
I lose my mind to you,
It's true.
The ringing remarks,
The truest thoughts.
Against my actions,
I continually fought.
Reality screams,
I can't face my deeds.
Tilt the glass,
Pour the wine.
This liquid drains,
I'm gone in time.
I feel a need to end it soon,
I feel a need to move.
To what ends I would go,
To what heights I would seek.
I couldn't hold on,
I faced my defeat.
Girl, you are gone,
I pushed you away.
You aren't coming back,
It's over, I fade.
I'm closed,
I'm finished,
I'm done with this.

1 comment:

caserad said...

My bowl of soup will focus moreso on the photo in the beginning. It struck something in me, a sense of foreboding maybe, for darker things to come.
And that's what your poem was, i feel. Don't take that in a bad way, Sam, for I really liked the poem.
"Tilt the glass,
Pour the wine." reading it a third time, I see a thematic resemblance in content and photo, ashamed i missed it before.
This post is a little scattered and since i fear of reaching small essay lengths I'll quite simply say: It's you, Sam, and in no way is that depressing. A very good poem; made me brood, made me think, wish I could tell you it'll all be okay.