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sunday's best

Falling through pages of martyrs on angels,
Feeling my heart go west;
I see the future dressed as a stranger
Wearing his sundays best.

Love is an act of blood,and I'm bleeding,
Pool in the shape of a heart.
Beauty projection in the reflection
Always the worst way to start

Now that your gone, I'm trying to take it.
Learning to cope with the pain.
Ill find a new love and I pray we can make it;
As long as we conquer the rain.

This is not how I want it to end;
And I fight to be open again.

There's no one to take my blame;
If they wanted to.
There's nothing to keep me sane;
And its all the same to you.

There's nowhere to set my aim;
So I'm everywhere.
Never come near me again;
Do you really think I need you?

And I smile and I learn to pretend;
And I fight to be open again.
And ill have no more dreams to defend;
Will I ever be open again?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2010
About this poem:
This is for all who have ever been hurt by one you TRULY loved. There is life beyond, but it takes a tremendous amount of hard work and a modicum of soul-searching.

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Comments (2)

modicum is not a word you hear much here. It is more than a modicum of a good poem. ;-)
Hi, cosmosis,
I see the future dressed as a stranger is such a powerful line describing the impact of love lost and its impact on our world as we knew it. Thankfully, as we grow, we continue to redefine ourselves...hopefully, with a smile. Thank you for sharing.
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by Unknown
on May 2010
Last Viewed: Oct 24
Last Commented: Jun 2010

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