seven

seven long weeks
and not one word 2 give her comfort
standing in the shadows
waiting on the want 2 pluck her silver chord
under the moist star
compose some new derangement,
play her out of compassion
if not out of love
from distress and gentle charm
around a heart of torment, but
seven long weeks–
and still my perfect moment hasnt come
the song is on my lips
a soft press of electricity
this spell
2 make me feel like eyem going 2 live
forever
and seven
long
weeks eyeve just been swallowing it
just beyond my fingers
my control
eye wont keep her a hostage of occasion
eye cant lie another night
without setting her free…
without releasing the emptiness in these pages

~ by abnegation on April 14, 2009.