Skip to main content

ODE TO YOUR DEPARTURE - by jrqc




Oh mi amor, death whispered once more, sighed once more,

and a curtain of mist clouds my mind,

My heart has frozen, and my eyes have flooded hopelessly,

And I am drowning, drowning in the tears of your departure.


The roses you left me are dwindling into decay and ashes,

All I know is that I am no more,

All I know is this consuming sorrow that eats my flesh, my soul,

Leaving me crawling and hoping for some light.


I am cast adrift into the darkness,

Haunted by the ghost of your touch,

Longing for a warmth that's forever lost,

Forever swallowed by the abyss of sorrow.


What am I to do,

But to let you go?

I am sliding away into the cold,

As I send you my ashy kiss,

As I drink my own tears.


The shadow within grows, and that sunset I beheld fades away,

Leaving me obscured, secluded, for you are no more,

What else is there in this bottomless dead existence,

Fading away, fading far away,

And my heart in vain cries.


Solace walked away from me,

All your joy consumed,

Leaving me with a bunch of memories,

sorrow  torments me, solitude once again embraces me.


The laughter we shared, the dreams we dared,

All gone, leaving me lost and despaired,

A wounded soul wandering in the wilderness,

Aching for the touch of your presence once more.


Oh mi amor, death's cold grip tightened its hold,

And I'm left in this desolate world to grieve,

With no solace, no respite, no relief,

Only the relentless agony of your absence.


My hope and dream is lost as I walk the moors,

my grief seems never ending,

so I take its hands and let myself go,

earthless, boundless, bodyless.

Comments

Post a Comment

Please feel free to write your feedback

Popular posts from this blog

LOVE'S ROMANTIC DEATH - NARRATIVE / SHORT STORY BY JRQC

For Martin, the simple act of getting up was a powerful force that translated into the sensation of morning freshness, as if his existence depended on it. And it was not in vain. He embodied one of those characters capable of making the mind and body flutter, a whirlwind infused with passion for everything representing beauty. When his eyes directly met yours, you felt exposed, as if an eternal flame shone in his honey-colored eyes. He seldom directed his gaze towards people while speaking, but when he did, you felt at his mercy, as if his eyes penetrated the walls of your soul and heart, leaving you exposed. However, I don't complain, as under the shelter of his aura and words, I felt the comforting warmth of that fiery gaze. His gaze intoxicated me, his words bathed me. Yes, that's Martin. That's him, the one I fell in love with. For him, life was a feast offering delicious delicacies and pleasures which he indulged in without distinction or regret. His strength pulled me...
Post a Comment
Read more

LIFE

Life is a joy. It makes our spirit grow and we shine our brightest colors, we fill our lives with music and then we fall in love and we try to make it all work, we try with all our might, we keep a smile on our faces and welcome all the bounties that sometimes life offers us.  But life also hurts, and when it does  we crumble down and then we just pick our pieces and put ourselves back together again. We are just broken pieces glued together walking here and there and yet, we manage to smile. We say hello and answer that we are ok, we just walk and continue moving on from everyday battles. Neverending battles. Is that we have left? Life is a gift, but I just wish I wasn't given it. Selfishness and cowardice perhaps come into play, but what can we say when those tears and heartaches seem not to go away? Again, we pick up whatever is left and somehow move on, we rebel against it all trying not to show our scars as we weather the storm, we grow, we move on. Life is beautiful. It ...
Post a Comment
Read more

LA CHICA DEL CALLEJÓN - Descripcion de personaje de ficcion - de jrqc

Ese día el sol brillaba como siempre, bañandola en su resplendor, tornando el color de su piel en tonos de miel y nuez. Su juventud perfumaba la calle y los ojos de los espectadores no la perdían de vista. Ella era simplemente la frescura de la primavera y el calor del verano combinadas casi perfectamente en las carnes y la figura de su cuerpo.  Sus senos firmes dejaban entrever las aureolas de la juventud, mientras sus piernas daban paso a ese menear característico de su coqueteo, al que daba rienda suelta así como su castaña y ondulada cabellera. Su mente anidaba la sed de ver el mundo, de ir más allá de embriagarse del placer que éste le pudiera ofrecer y sin escatimar en ambiciones y sueños ella simplemente se dejaba ir. Era la carencia de estas vivencias y posesiones que la presionaban a sumirse y ser esclava de ambiciones que a veces eran malsanas y mezquinas, pero a ella eso no le importaba. Deseaba agarrar al mundo y hacerle su esclavo, deseaba ser complacida y en su parece...
Post a Comment
Read more