Were
it her eyes
that I so easily
drowned within as I
lie desperately reaching
to capture a breath
of air, but to no
avail, leaving
me left with
only a
memory of having been, the recollection of momentarily existing.
If one were to define it as being as such, realising how so little was left of me, insatiable, as she oft-times was, taking what caught
her interest and never replenishing
it…
I should have never allowed
it, being caught
unaware.
Arrives the Evening Star within the sky, and she, at her writing desk
writing of remembrances with trembling hand and a tear
pooling in the corner of
her eye.
Too late, a tear-stain revealing itself
on a scented
page.
Were it words of love she
wanted written
of…
So difficult to hide, the twinkle within her eyes.
“Dearly beloved, so loudly my heart beats f
for you in my
breast.”
She could not help, but want to cry as she let out a soften sigh,
struggling as she attempted to take a needed breath.
“Dearly beloved, so often my thoughts return to you,
our lover’s tryst, our rendezvous
we kept secret
Our meeting long after dark beneath
the shadow of the
moon.”
Is an emotion ever coloured
blue?
of her depression, as she wrote of a love, her dearly departed.
Oft-times she attempted to mimic the facial expression
which appeared to be most prevalent,
if not wearing
a mask,
revealing whatever emotion she desired to wear when amongst
her peers, if ever the mask, were misplaced
or stolen,
hiding herself whenever she did
not want her true self
revealed…
She had so many of them. Masks depicting whatever identity
she had chosen for the day. She compared them to
a pair of shoes, as often she exchanged
one mask for
another,
setting them on a shelf, and taking a few minutes to select another,
keeping a few in her purse whenever she felt like
changing her appearance
if ever she grew bored with whom she appeared to be,
which was more often, than
not.
About James Sterling
James began writing at the age of 13, and he has published about 12500 pages of poetry on Facebook! He retired from work at the age of 62.
James is proud to share that he never edits what he has written, and that is the beauty of his writing!!
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