Poem: On wings of Thought

"When I wake up, the dream isn't done. 
I want to see your face and know I made it home. 
If nothing is true, what more can I do?
I am still painting flowers for you."
-Painting Flowers, All Time Low.

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On wings of Thought, my mem'ries come
To touch my heart and spark my eye.
I hear my soul -- the silent hum
Of feelings that refuse to die. 

Mayhap it went too far, too fast?
My wounds have yet from time to heal
And dreams transport to moments past;
My mind does stray from what is real.

Your ghostly kisses haunt me still -- 
Those vows which we have left unsaid.
The ling'ring whispers fight my will;
I wake and breathe, but I am dead! 

What must I do to carry on
Without your voice to guide my feet?
And shall I call our wishes won
A triumph? More 'tis of defeat.

On wings of Thought, our idylls come -- 
Again -- to kindle hope, then fly.
Release! I beg, my heart be numb.
Else, let these long shed tears to dry.


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Another older poem that I'm not so embarrassed about.