.


Screens

The room was dark as the skies in some rainstorm dream
A light bulb in my head that had burnt out on a whim
Inside myself I looked for a clue to who you were, back then
Your eyes were shining bright and clear like a magic trick of illusion
In the arms of the ghost that was I held you dear once upon a Time
Saw the night enfold us both in sad good-byes we turned and left
Ourselves to grieve what never was or only may have been,
Now I hear no one knows your whereabouts now it seems
You learned to disappear between what Is and is not seen
Backstage passes to the silver screen.




Poetry by Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 171 times
Written on 2019-02-21 at 20:45

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