Footprints softly planted on wet sand. Hand in hand, every print representing out union together down life's path. A sandcastle, delicately crafted together. Each tiny grain symbolic of our hopes and dreams. We lay by a hot, burning fire as night falls. Sheltered by a thick fog; we confide in each other. We hold close as the waves pound in the distance. Our bodies; inseperable. Our love; inquestionable. Fueled by a fire inside, our passion grows hot, every movement dedicated to each other. Where you end is where I begin. We drift off together, entrenched in a vice called love. As many as the grains of sand the sun has set and rose, but on this day the sun burned black; Cold. I awake, only to find myself alone. I cry your name; only and echo replies. I begin to look around as our blanket of fog is uncovered by a haunting wind. I hear the waves, but they sing a new song; they now speak of aa bruised and darkened soul. The water; cold and black. The air; dead and heavy. Our sandcastle; Smashed! Our footprints: erased by the black sea. The waves, once a source of passion now breed only sadness. The waves; they taunt me with her whispers. They torment me with her laughs. They kill me with her cries. They stab at me relentlessly, over and over again. I look around. I am lost, my requiem shattered. And as I cry out for my own death I think to myself, "What now, then".
Reason for writing:
Personal disaster. I would like to sincerely apologize to all the people misfortunate enough to have read this drivel. Sorry.
Birth sign: Not entered
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View more poems by Michael Rowzee (me again).