Forlorn

As part of my mission to write more, write better, and write things people see so I can get used to people seeing my writing (which is akin to peeling off my skin and asking you all whether you like the way my dermis displays my nerve endings) I have sought out a number of prompts and exercises, some from the Writers’ Forum magazine, as demonstrated in yesterday’s post, and others from elsewhere.

Today’s is from daily post and the prompt is a single word, with  which I can do anything. So I’ve done this;

Forlorn

A word is a place we can occupy
when we speak from a secret deep inside
a world in a word we can make our own
and a universe we can call a home

a word is a secret, whispered close
to the ears of a loved one trusted most
a whisper is a promise and a piece of self
a betrayal to the sanctity of mental health

A word can be everything, out on its own
in a universe tailored for pairing alone
souls to bolt two whole beings together
to make anew something that can’t last forever

Eternity cycles from every decision
all of our choices become our prison
as free as we try to believe we can be
the older we get, the more we can see

We are trapped in this pattern, this endless recycle
of living and breathing and dying, desciples
of promises made to a world we just visit
and we question, each moment, if this really is it

A word, whispered tenderly, sharing a moment
gives a piece of ourselves until we’re just the remnant
of a soul, given piecemeal to those we would warn
and our love, given freely, leaves those remnants forlorn.

Image shared from http://www.azquotes.com/quotes/topics/forlorn.html

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5 thoughts on “Forlorn

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