B Flores Moss (c) 2013 January
it is the emptiness of a room
that can not be filled with music,
laughter, wine nor ecstacy.
the cold wind that blows out
the flickering light. a shadow
of the past that comes hauntingly
on those cold and rainy nights.
it is the cruel flashes of painful
memories,of dreams that could
have been. loneliness is a cheat.
it opens wide the portals of tantalizing,
exciting temptation, happily offering an
escape in the bottle or solace in the
arms of ecstacy only to leave one
deeper in misery.
it is the deafening
silence of the night,
the frightening wind
of a stormy weather,
the echo of footsteps
corridors or lonely
loneliness is a
haunting melody that
the whole being, in
waking hours, in sleep, in dreams.
it is a long stairway to meditation,
strewn with pieces of broken dreams.
rising and disappearing with each
smoke ring are forgotten promises,
of hopes, of a life that could have been.
it is the yellow streak of jealousy
that knits the heart in misery and pain.
the blank stare at the ceiling, at the
far horizon and vast nothingness.
loneliness is a fatal blow of frustration,
a rebel in crowded places, amid laughter
and song, leaves the eyes always
you are so much a part of life.
Who has not known your cold embrace.
Moon photo,courtesy of flickie.com
Lonely avenue photo- red bubble.com