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Thoughts 08: A Poem
Suffer summer's mid

Dust covered whine
And heartstrings cold
I’ll keep them mine
Till we grow old

Never I forget,
I forget it not.
How you have let
Me down to rot.

You did not know
And did not share
That I did but so
You did not care.

Have ever you
Thought of me
The color blue
How I might be?

Since us I stand
In storms of dust
Oh, in this land
No one to trust.

Silence claims
What once my voice
An arrow aims
Leaves me the choice.

My choice went by
I chose a place
My heart to die
With hardy pace.

In memory
Remember it
Suffer summer’s mid.

Once more trying to come to terms with something I don't have the slightest wish of living with... memory is a strong torture.

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