Forgotten But Not Gone...

Sacred memories and forgotten dreams,
Vivid settings and sunlit scenes,
Glistening radiant light on the ocean’s head,
Silent thoughts and words never said;

Bleeding beneath the surface of still waters,
Trying to cope with the anger within,
Fallen hearts and lost emotions,
Secular thoughts and parallel sins;

Leave me be and let me die,
See you in hell and don’t forget your lie,
Take it with you and hold it tight,
Grab it onto with all your might,
For when the demons see your face,
You WILL be asking for God’s gentle grace…

Comments

Bleeding Inside

You said to me that you wanted to forget the past, And put it behind for us to last, But there you add him again to remember, Even with the times we shared last December; I'm feeling shaky inside and I can't hide, This emotion so deep that can't subside, I can't believe you keep him near, To me him around now my greatest fear; I can't change how I feel to make you smile, Cause you're hurting me inside for the while, I guess we'll wait to see how it will be, Cause I'm bleeding a bit even though you've stopped loving me.

A Liar's Life...

Poems are lies, And lies are hidden truth, A bundle of poems, A liar since youth; Days pass, And never content, With one’s lie, A life all bent; Forgive but never forget, ‘Cause you’ll lose, You’re heart’s content, For drugs, smokes and booze; Leave and try to change, Make peace with age, You’ll soon die and be gone, A wasted memory, just another forgotten son ...

Shattered

… and as he looked into her eyes, he admitted the truth, a small, kindling flame burning deep within him for her… but as the truth spewed, all he got were blank stares and empty words as she admitted that she didn’t love him.. and never did. All the weeks before, till midnight and later, were all in vain as the letter he wrote meant nothing now. He slowly looked away, placing his week’s worth of work on the edge of the desk. He gathered his belongings, looked for the door as he always did but this time walked out with his heart in his hands. As he exited he felt a sharp pain slither through his chest, as he had grown O’ too well of the feeling. He stopped at the top of the steps, looked at the sky, inhaled as hard as he can and made his way down, through the entrance and along the pavement to the corner. Every word said, a lie and every emotion felt, a myth. All he had for himself was the memory of being with someone but never actually being with anyone. Atleast he was that much clo...

Andrew Hauton Poetry

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