Words and Dreams

Words and Dreams

Your name is now no more than a word to me, your presence no more than a faintly remembered voice – it’s impalpable, like a dying vibration.
Your loss has striped my heart of its cloak of time. What once tore treasures from the depths of my soul now causes my head to fall hopelessly to my breastbone.
My vacant orbs of eyes now disclaim any intentions which had been borne in upon me; the emissary of pity and plight arresting me.
Crestfallen and servile, I no longer sing of springtime in your spectral moonlight. The taint of death surrounds me – its scent thick in my nostrils, its kiss soft on my lips - effacing all with a dim light in the attitude of despair.
I’ve since turned my face towards the depths of wilderness, losing sight of the cost of heartache which comprised the high price of your love.
Yet, visions of you run wild through my dreams with a passionate uproar - they hold me captive to your spell.
If only I had an hour more, I’d hold your heart with tender care lest it dissolves in my hands.

C. William Carroll