Voicemail
A poem is a voice-mail,
the poet has stepped out, most likely,
echoing silence fills the waiting space,
words suspended in a restless chase.
Will not be back, the message relayed,
time stretches thin, like shadows displayed.
Please leave a message, a plea in the night,
whispers of longing caught in the light.
After you hear a gunshot,
a reality shifts, a sharp, sudden thought,
the world holds its breath, a heartbeat, a pause,
as echoes of passion crash into flaws.
Please go ahead, take a chance on the call,
within chaos and beauty, we rise and we fall.
Resurrect me, save me, play me, the plea lingers on,
through verses unwritten, where hopes are reborn.
In the stillness that follows, find strength to create,
for in every lost moment, there's magic to sate.
With each word a bullet, the mind fragile glass, we aim for the heart,
a voice in the darkness, where all poems start.
YOU ARE READING
Collection of words
Puisiin this book, I'll collect all my poems, songs, and such. So let's see where creativity takes us!
