Haunting

An obsession.

The whimper of your keys prescribes a civil disobedience.

Tranquil chaos fills my heart and mind, brimming recesses with mumbles of hubris,

and the pining of a forgetful friend.

 

Olivia, the stain does not simply scrub away, as your keys continue to play.

Rather, the edges sharpen and cut away; the false truths, the quietus of pain.

Perhaps it’s necessary to mute our fledgling memories, and abort a mission of faith; of...

 

Love was never a goal, but a harmonious consequence, plucked from a macabre rhythm.

As you continue to write your future , your own personal symphony,

Remember I am the quiet critic silently applauding your beauty of energy.

A shadow of a false hope, a remembrance of lost time.

 

Olivia, this is for you; I tried. 

Author's Note

Let me see your thoughts.

Reviews

[splattercore]

Man! I’m digging this one! “Love was never a goal.” And yet here we are. Love it!

[Somebrownnerd]

Appreciate the Review! I actually recently decided to come back to this community after five years. It's been interesting reading all of my old stuff, and remembering the head space I was in at the time. Again thanks for dropping by, I'll be sure to check your works out as well!

[Eva Rosehill]

Wow, one of the first poems I have fell in love with, I really enjoyed this. "...but a harmonious consequence, plucked from a macabre rhythm." My favourite line, beautiful.

[Somebrownnerd]

Thank you Eva, I'm glad you enjoyed it! Though, I must say you should thank Beethoven, and the memory of a friend I once knew to that particular line. Amazing what type of memories music can provide a key for.

-Z.