I breathe deeply, my soul can hear, Trying so hard not to release these tears. My heart can feel, such torture it mourns, And the flutter of wings, my heart becomes air born.
Take me away, I really hurt, I cannot find peace, So hard I try, oh so hard, but yet no release. Perhaps was me, this reasoning of his, Perhaps was something in my touch or my kiss.
I cannot fathom my life without my heart, My souls ache, Oh I’m being pulled apart. The fire dims, my hearts flame now shattered, Ah, but in the end, it no longer matters.
And now the tears can flow, the memory’s erased, No, it cannot be, because I can still see your face.
© Cynthia Clark
https://www.facebook.com/forestsflame/
forestsflame.wordpress.com
Cynthia, you are such an expressive and authentic writer, portraying the spirit in its vulnerability and weakness as the heart mourns and grieves due to loss. It is sadness draped in beautiful, real emotion. Thank you for sharing!
I like this Cynthia, even though as Donald says there is a lot of pain in it, its a very good write.
The line "the flutter of wings, my heart becomes air born" is wonderful...
Lots of pain there