Array ( [sid] => 155556 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => tenderly. [time] => 2009-12-02 11:29:06 [hometext] => Can one forgive the person they begrudgingly still love after so much silence? [bodytext] =>




I am reminded of you in my loneliest hour -


soul clenched tight behind
lips that burn

to kiss, to devour,


and even in this wretched twilight
I love you as I loved you before,
when you were neither smoke nor dream,


yet forever untouchable.










The moon lay wounded in the cross of your arms that night.


I remained as still as a funeral flower
watching from the soil that never touched you,
silent with my grief, and yet
smiling as you became moonlight.


No longer the fruit to your hunger,
I lay on my side in hopes that you would hold me,
if only for a moment,
not as the frail, but as the woman
that loved you more than sorrow.










The night drips into my hands
like the saddest song,
and I think of you.


I cannot outrun it.

You stain everything with your phantom flowers,
the same sweetness flowing over me as it did before,
the same unforgiving ache creating
the same ruins.



How can I remain silent when your hands search for me
with that broken tenderness I know so well?


How can I forgive the wounds you inflicted?

the cold absence you gave me?

the agony of still longing for you?






Darling, how can I not love you in this darkness?









[comments] => 1 [counter] => 248 [topic] => 75 [informant] => FleurdeSang [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 20 [ratings] => 4 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => anguished ) Your Poetry Dot Com - tenderly.


tenderly.
Date: Wednesday, 2nd December 2009 @ 11:29:06 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: FleurdeSang





I am reminded of you in my loneliest hour -


soul clenched tight behind
lips that burn

to kiss, to devour,


and even in this wretched twilight
I love you as I loved you before,
when you were neither smoke nor dream,


yet forever untouchable.










The moon lay wounded in the cross of your arms that night.


I remained as still as a funeral flower
watching from the soil that never touched you,
silent with my grief, and yet
smiling as you became moonlight.


No longer the fruit to your hunger,
I lay on my side in hopes that you would hold me,
if only for a moment,
not as the frail, but as the woman
that loved you more than sorrow.










The night drips into my hands
like the saddest song,
and I think of you.


I cannot outrun it.

You stain everything with your phantom flowers,
the same sweetness flowing over me as it did before,
the same unforgiving ache creating
the same ruins.



How can I remain silent when your hands search for me
with that broken tenderness I know so well?


How can I forgive the wounds you inflicted?

the cold absence you gave me?

the agony of still longing for you?






Darling, how can I not love you in this darkness?











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