Pages of papers are scattered almost everywhere.
The hearts emotions wait here and some over there.
Rhymes left incomplete with the stain of wasted tears.
Fragments birthed for cleansing the bittersweet years.
Yet memories live on with crumble letters from the past.
The words pleading for closure from the first to the last.
"Free the heart on parchment and open the lost and found.Ē
"Let the words final resting place be buried in a ghost town."
But yesterday is still in a hiatus for writing any more down.
The living will of my heart has testified before the home town.
For every morning upon rising the words never fell asleep.
I think of you always and can't wait for the heart to speak.
How can I escape words that thrive to birth a living dream?
A constant ache in the heart is to release today's love theme.
Will any poet's ever retire their papers and pen?
To finally walk with expressive love hand in hand.
Or continued to trek in the words that line ones soul.
Documenting passion daily takes a heartrending toll.
Silence the heartís cry and submerge it with solitude.
Donít let words left on paper continue their royal rule?
Cast away the quills into the deep grave waters of the soul.
Bury all the pending chapters to the depths with a drum roll.
But words will find another heart as we leave our clay covered home.
Immortality for a prisoner exchange for poetry under the astral dome.