Perspective.

foxymop_stupidmopfoxymop_stupidmop Posts: 159
edited April 2007 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
There was the boy
There was the girl
Theirs was the love.
She needed to be assured
So he gave her the star
It was hers.
She took it
She killed it
The meaning was gone
The love was gone
Still it was hers.
Every autumn it circles
High in the night sky
To remind her
Of who she is.
New love blossomed
The first crocus of spring
This love was clean
Not yet tarnished by her.
She told this new love
The story of the star
That it was hers
Always watching.
He assuaged her pain
The remorse that she held
But also stole something
That autumn night.
The star
Her star
Was not hers at all
But belonged to a guy named Orion.
Stop following me, I do not know where I am going.
Post edited by Unknown User on

Comments

  • chadwickchadwick up my ass Posts: 21,157
    awesome..i like your style..
    for poetry through the ceiling. ISBN: 1 4241 8840 7

    "Hear me, my chiefs!
    I am tired; my heart is
    sick and sad. From where
    the sun stands I will fight
    no more forever."

    Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
  • Thanks, just a reflection of something that has resurfaced in my life. I don't know if it's good or bad, but I definitely know that it is.
    Stop following me, I do not know where I am going.
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