When Love Dies

A Stolen Life

It’s not the images I see that harm me,

But the words that are spoken by friends to be.

It’s not the opinions of those unknown called strangers,

That causes me to languish to shutter to possess anger.

It’s not the written words on white paper sent,

That causes me the greatest sorrow, days of descent.

It’s not your appearance that offends me now,

That time has stolen and changed you somehow.

There was a time of frivolity in some distant past,

Alas, now laughter and smiles become prisoners at last.

It was intended to be fanciful, holding to a promise,

But this lifetime filled with hopes is now feeling ominous.

In halls of commitment words spoken at that time,

Were echoes of others fixed in line as bells chimed.

Now go your way from this atrocity this vicious crime,

That’s stolen all that was me, but you tell me it’s fine.

A passage of sorrows in memory at life’s door,

A marking of time, a clock-keeping score.

Gone are the opportunities given to many,

Gone are the compromises taken so lightly.

It’s not the vacuum created by wishful thinking,

That can heal wounds of dead years’ slashing.

Therefore, with a new understanding I walk forward,

Nevermore surrendering my will as if stumbling awkward.

A renaissance is often needed that can make corrections,

Where roads appear leading in different directions.

These crossroads I see before me awaiting my decision,

Will soon only be a memory that’s part of my collection.