All That Is Left Of Me

All That Is Left Of Me long poem

Photo by b3nscott

All that is left of me
Is an aching soul.
A psalm of the sunset
Ready to decay.
All that is left of me
Is a modern whore.
A manipulative God
covering the way.

All that is left of me
Is love’s absence.
A wordless sentence
Cautious of a lie.
All that is left of me
Is a second chance,
A heartless performance
After which I die.

All that is left of me
Is a mess.
A wanderess
with directions.
All that is left of me
are my muses.
And Bloody Mary
Cocktail glasses.

All that is left of me
are languages.
Unspoken among us.
All that is left of me
are murdered angels
Fluttering,flying
all around Jesus.

All that is left of me
Is skin In which I live.
Forgive me if I take
this life of mine away.
For I am free when
I write.
I sin
When I look not for
you
every day!

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 2.50 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of
avatar
wpDiscuz

I Know Me

I Know Me short poem

It was a freak accident of epithelium under anaesthesia. You place a window on to a hollow brain. The money makes the monkey out of you. A green light blocks the fish, your memory, to swim in black thoughts. The

Yukon Call Me Panic

Yukon Call Me Panic ode

Vane glorious and absolutistic, though I defiantly, cavalierly, and blithely attest Yukon bet your (laugh-in) sweet bippy mine acidic breast houses anarchic, anti-poetic ballistic, barbaric, and bubonic cannibalistic demons within thy safely guarded Pandora chest atomic cesium clock timed to

The Lost Me

The Lost Me short poem

I was so much into you That I lost my friends, My family and most importantly Myself. My dear you, You hurt me so much That I lost you, And I lost myself too. I was depressed, tensed here You

The Orchestra And Me

The Orchestra And Me prose poem

I had a dream last night. It was very concise but interesting. Rather revelatory, but not prophetic in the usual way. There was a class with a facilitator encouraging input based on a lesson plan provided to the class. I,

Chase Me

Chase Me short poem

Voltage charges power lines’ high wires All honest men die liers Her electric current runs tight by pliers My fires burn, they breathe, ash, and smoke Held so tightly I couldn’t help it my hand broke Shattered into a million