My Love Left Weeping

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Not really a poem. I wasn't aiming for a poem, to those of you who think this is a poem. It's prose I guess you could call it, a story. I think you get the point. This was inspired by Dante's "La Vida Nuova"(The New Life); one of my favorite poems. Anyway, enjoy.

Submitted: January 06, 2012

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Submitted: January 06, 2012

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My Love Left Weeping

A pattern.

It was one I could not comprehend.

Spattered on the wall, made of blood, and running red with love.

So disorienting it was; I could not concentrate.

Laying awake, I let my mind drift until night and sleep befell me.

A dream came to me then, and I watched in awe.

My Love appeared before me,

Handsome and tall.

With my arms I reached out to him, and he took me in.

Inside his heart is where I stayed, he and I.

Yet it was there that I laid eyes on myself.

I lay still on a bed, with my Love next to me.

In his hand was my heart.

Beating and red it was, as he leaned.

Above my lips and eyes he held it, and clasped tightly.

The blood dripped on my face and composed my tears,

Streaming to my head where it began to pool.

With his other hand he clutched my neck,

And he squeezed then, ever so tightly.

I watched as I did not struggle, did not fight.

No tear escaped his eyes and my last breath drew.

With that breath I asked,

“How could you?”

In rage he let go and threw me at the wall,

Where there formed a pattern of blood.

My heart he also threw,

And it died when it hit the ground next to my feet.

I woke then to find my reality.

I was dead,

My heart rotting on the floor.

I was left to wash it away,

While I watched my Love leave weeping.


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