echo of footsteps down a long, empty hall.
The sense of reality's starting to fall.
Pain left behind, reminding all the rest.
In shadows calling, whispering of death.
Desultory, the repetition.
Screaming in displaced aggression.
Lost within a definition.
Decaying underneath the house.
The genitals of youth, long lost.
An ancient feel of ecstasy deceased.
Remembering what seemed to matter least.
Clinging to sensations spent
in one great kiss of innocence.
The crystals and the jewels all were shattered.
It was another kind of love that mattered.
Echoing in memory.
Distended into history.
Mired in the feeling of all doubt.
The lost were never really found.
A misty image, dissipating
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2005 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .