Painting by Donna Shvil
Her heart got wet.
as darkness resented dawn.
as darkness resented dawn.
The door was too far
to be open or closed
and everything seemed to say
that her pain wasn’t necessary
anymore.
to be open or closed
and everything seemed to say
that her pain wasn’t necessary
anymore.
Lying on the floor,
she was losing again what
she had already lost.
She suffered boldly:
it takes courage to feel those things
that pull out our ribs, filling us with nothing.
she was losing again what
she had already lost.
She suffered boldly:
it takes courage to feel those things
that pull out our ribs, filling us with nothing.
She had no vocation
for pain, for disagreements with clarity.
She ached while she could,
she gave herself the privilege of mourning
the spilt milk, the past, the small tragedies.
for pain, for disagreements with clarity.
She ached while she could,
she gave herself the privilege of mourning
the spilt milk, the past, the small tragedies.
When she raised,
she made the forgivable mistake
of thinking about being in love again
and as the first ray of light flooded
the room, her heart dried in the sun.
she made the forgivable mistake
of thinking about being in love again
and as the first ray of light flooded
the room, her heart dried in the sun.
Karla Bardanza
Copyright©Karla Bardanza 2011
One of the most beautiful love poems I have read! Lovely flower!
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