Soul

Why was this walk so short?
You have been with me in this raptured dream
but now only a shadow is left, half-breathing.
I thought it'd last ages...
centuries...
eternities...
infinities...
But
as the dead smell death from their graves
as the ravens croak their sorrowful tales
you
could not bear another fight.
another fight against your promised loneliness.

All I ask...
To whom have you sold your soul?



Poetry by Eva
Read 1186 times
Written on 2009-07-09 at 12:50

Tags Death 

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