Lost days of grandly painted
Great minds that never reach a real conclusion.
Defined, depressed, left unexpressed,
the feeling that their life is running out.
Pretending that they never
cared at all.
Heart beating in the rhythm of a squall.
To love was to feel, and the pain was too real.
Easier to never love at all.
And so the days ran on,
the loving lost.
Due diligence, the calculated cost.
Reformed, the alcoholic sat in trance,
never daring just to dance again...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2002 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .