Empty Hands

Cerulean beams come crashing
Into final winter’s eve.
Nighttime stars are flashing Morse
For impecunious things.
Our love’s too light and vibrant
For the looming inky night.
I vow to carry you cross the stars
Into bedazzled shine daylight.
Now I’ve reached the day and
There’s empty in my hands.
Where’s my perfect love gone
With our infallible iniquitous plans?
She’s gone and I’m alone and
I’ll never truly know
If she was real or a chimera
That I wasn’t meant to hold.


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Filed under poem, poetry

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