The Writers Voice
The World's
Favourite Literary Website
I Was, I Am
by
Emily Marsham
It doesn't hurt anymore;
but its still there.
I don't feel you any more;
but I can see your hand in mine.
Shadows block out the sun,
the moon and the stars.
And figures of gray flicker in my memory.
I can't smell the morning, noon or night.
I don't feel the warmth of the sun on my back.
All the music was drowned out long ago,
silenced by the shadows in the black night.
I feel no pain, I feel no hurt.
I feel no love, I feel no warmth.
I was the bright flash of light in the morning;
I once was the warm summer breeze
tickling the leaves in trees;
I once was the twinkle in your eye when you laughed.
I am no more.
I was, I am;
I am a faint outline,
A distant memory amongst few.
I was, I am.
Love was meant for keeping;
but then memories were too.
Critique this work
Click on the book to leave a comment about this work