The Leave

A woman, separated from her lover, bids him a last farewell.

Fear sews its threads

Through me

A mere puppet is all

I shall be

Paranoia tears off

My eyelids

Now I see all

In accusing red

Cut the ropes that

Links you to me

Fire is catching

Thread catches fire

Run but do take

My name

Wherever the place

You shall flee

Weave your memories

Of me

To your heart and soul

And see

That if fate entwined

Our wyrds

Know that I am no more

The soul you had known

Stay if you wish

Leave if you must

May we be united

When all turns to dust

Oh, but my love,

Never forget.

Oh, by my love,

I will never forget.

Reviews

[Emily]

Lovely poem, but did you mean to say "wyrds" instead of "words?

[S.F]

Thank you! And no, "wyrds" means fate; 'Wyrd is a concept in Anglo-Saxon culture roughly corresponding to fate or personal destiny.'

[Marcus Sergiu David]

Deep words. Thanks a lot for sharing this poem with us. :)

[S.F]

Thank you for taking the time to read it :)

[Emily]

Lovely poem!
Keep it up!!

[S.F]

Thanks Emily!

[FaeryQueen]

in such few words, you've accomplished to do so much!

[S.F]

Thank you so much Khatoon !! :)

[FaeryQueen]

you're so welcome! keep this up!