Can any device of science measure the vast crater
that is in my heart where your love impacted,
filling me? Nestled together, a perfect match
until you burned away our heated passion,
cremated now, cold, gone to dust.
My cries echo in the wasteland where all
that remains is ash, gray and dry in the urn.
I moan in blackest despair, nothing left
but funeral rags, and know only death
will ease the pain, for in that endless sleep
will I then forget the aching emptiness
without you, of this deep space devoid of air.
Pieman's Main Page
Poet's Page
