by KK Sierra
No goodbyes.
No regrets.
It's better this way.
Walked away.
Couldn't look back.
Who says its better this way?
Things are gone; empty rooms.
Vanilla lingers in the air.
Why is it better this way?
Passion embraced in the night.
Sharing love, sharing life.
Why do you want it this way?
You built a wall.
You hide yourself.
I won't say its better this way.
I'll sleep alone.
No regrets...
But, I don't want it this way.
###
12/11/10 - A special day I'll always remember.
No goodbyes.
No regrets.
It's better this way.
Walked away.
Couldn't look back.
Who says its better this way?
Things are gone; empty rooms.
Vanilla lingers in the air.
Why is it better this way?
Passion embraced in the night.
Sharing love, sharing life.
Why do you want it this way?
You built a wall.
You hide yourself.
I won't say its better this way.
I'll sleep alone.
No regrets...
But, I don't want it this way.
###
12/11/10 - A special day I'll always remember.
The picture sits in the frame. It has been so long since he has seen her smile. The picture remains. His face rests in his palms. The ache in his heart is almost enough to kill the toughest athlete. Long days have passed making the seasons fell like weeks.
ReplyDeleteLaughter echoes in his mind. The leaves fall from the trees as his tears land on the pillow. The room spins and his world has stopped. The beating in his chest spreads the pain through his being.
He can't understand what went wrong. Promises and forevers show themselves for the empty words that they were. Confusion and pain turns to anger. Empty bottles line the floor.
The frame is broken and some of the shattered glass holds its place. The picture remains. The man does not. The shell of this man grows brittle. Cold finds it's way in. The summer days do not warm his aching heart. He lays in bed trying to find his way home.
Picture creased and weathered is tossed on the fire. The smoke finds it's way to the night sky. Like the love once known it's gone and only the memory remains. His legs carry him on. The mirror stares back at him. Dresser drawer slides shut.
The November sky offers rain that day. On bended knee he kneels. A single rose is placed on the headstone. Kissing his wedding ring he tucks the gold chain back into his shirt. Rain on his face hides his tears. Thunder breaks as his frame reaches its height. "I'm coming home, Sweetheart."
Only the memory remains.