el-1-jpeg

There are stories from the past
That summon you like lighthouses
There is the delirium of diary pages
That storm your body with a convulsion of feelings
There are moments in the past
Relived in the present.

There are species that speciate
Out of love, but remain forever a fossil,
A missing link. Of what the earnest
Heart ploughed once from the soil, to plant
A seed of hope. To grow what is concealed
Beneath, to what has its own beautiful life.
Of how youth is a graveyard of memories
Each with an epitaph.

And hers stand….

La mer a mort a l’interieur de ma coeur.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: