The Writer's Voice
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D. J.
By
Suzi Bateman
Ushered in through darkness sweet,
the shadows grow across the floor.
Terrified, beguiled with splendour,
but, of what, I can't be sure.
The night creeps in like tired ladies,
sad and soft, alone, unsure.
Searching for the fuel to feed it,
the pain that still remains so pure.
Of broken hearts and lovesick men,
I'll tell you stories, oh so true.
The pain of loss remains unspoken,
of shattered hearts I've known a few.
Terrified of memories,
I have tried so hard not to remember.
As I watch this candle flicker,
growing pain with glowing ember.
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