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Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #1981456
No undoing what was done....
TO RATHER NOT REMEMBER


See red, drink the taste of gall.
The glass, despair within is tall.
In tears, yet far too many cried.
Those years, decade that I tried.

I knew a woman--
Have all been fortunately so unfortunate?
She held her beauty well--
Am I by myself alone?
And her beauty I beheld--
Can I be within, without?
All I knew was her....

My self, I struggle to collect.
Her self, though shallow, stands erect.
Be lost, the pieces of her lies.
'til death, remembering her eyes.
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