Room Of Memory
The heart that beats after it is broken.
Room of memory,
Here’s where I love him.
I can imagine
Where our togetherness
Was warm magic laughter for us.
A wild sweet Grace
That time made strange,
And grew into a
Giant animal of evil
Purely made of our wanting.
Birthed in this place that lives
In me without time.
- this world of my heart - where
Your ghost can be heard singing
For me only of our big
Love. A warm hurting wail.
It is a sound that drives me
from the room, and that eventually
Tears my heart apart.
About the Creator
Lisa Dryer
I am a woman reaching middle age who has always wanted to be a published author. I am a great reader! I have MS and it's a great day when I can write even a little bit!
Keep reading
More stories from Lisa Dryer and writers in Poets and other communities.
Smart phones, Humans and Aliens.
WARNING. I will be tapping into one of your favorite creative tensions: The absurdity of humans worshipping their glowing rectangles as if they were tiny oracles. There’s something deliciously poetic about that contradiction, and it lends itself beautifully to an instructive proviso.
By Novel Allen7 days ago in Poets
Autonomy Is The Real Privilege
Good morning, freedom-seekers! Today we’re gonna be looking at autonomy. A strange word, I know; one many would probably look at blankly and run away from on sight. We’re gonna figure out what it actually means, consider how it’s achieved, and decipher just how deeply most of us are tangled up in dependence without realising it.
By That ‘Freedom’ Guy3 days ago in Humans
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.