Of Stabbings Deepest
in a yearning profound, creeping deep within
an ache, intangible, flushes my skin
swept through its current of associations vague
my heart beset with the looming of a plague
as glimpses of my surroundings corrode
drowned by the flashes of a deathly untold
introducing themselves as mere daydreams
these most strenuous, utterly silent screams.
and I was gone for a while there, I was.
over ancient gilded arousals am I to cherish,
when what pertains now has yet to perish?
and if the ironic has dawned not
lest I awaken to the fact being taught:
nostalgia hovers below, like a cloud-shaped ghost
it lurks, solemnly, in the abyss of a remembering
for any frail soul, ruminant, desperately longing to host
through sapping subside; the prolongation of its haunting.
poem by Chris Jelens
Added by Poetry Lover
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