Monday, November 21, 2011

The spew of peaking emotions is not a pleasant thing

My lips become dry with cold absence
as I part them to breath through my throat they crack.
The salt of the earth burns them as I kiss the dirt.
Longing for the warmth from beneath.
I shiver from the solitary nights of autumn.
For they are like a romance,
an ethereal that insults me.
Mocks me for my incompetence that caused my lover's affection to rot.
I was not enough and so she finds another man
Another soul to draw in only to scathe.
Envy and pity go hand in hand,
for that man that has become what I could not.

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