Bad With The Good'I thought I had lost you, but it was a bad dream.'
These are the months of winter long nights
Where we touch each others hearts with a ghostly love,
I long for the frozen spirit that sleeps buried beneath thought
To be alive as I imagine it could be as we wait
Wait for what is written, what is spoken to awaken and rise,
Old catalogues of past sentiment spread pale, yellow leaves like sighs
Telling me that Love is only a word like any other word
Letters worn as fiery burning brands turning into stars
Grown heavy and dark until, ( not even light escapes )
'It was a bad dream,
never give a second thought to the snarls of old monsters'
"The fever was bad this time I know"
Some loves never die they exist with a life all their own
We will battle monsters together come what may,
'I knew when I found you, you had always been,
my good dream.'
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 563 times
Written on 2013-01-03 at 18:51
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