Words We Cannot Speak

Limbo

The town was a dystopian sight,
The air felt weightlessly light.
Dusk faded into the new dawn,
Where picturesque was neatly drawn.
It had a lilt of untouchable deja vu,
But no one could seem to pass through.

The town was a place of new starts,
Of never leaving or moving apart.
The people walked hand in hand,
They etched their hearts into the sand.
The gentle breeze blew the branches,
The mood put people into hypnotising trances.

The town was calm and mellow,
Filled with wild- flower meadows.
It was a place for reminiscing,
But nothing felt like it was missing.
The town was a place like daydreaming
Yet it was far apart from mainstreaming.

Two lovers walked silently together,
Feeling each other's presence in altogether.
They stared into each other's soulful eyes,
Knowing that this was a fair compromise.
She took his outstretched hand,
As they ran to the sound of a mourning band.

This town was a place called oblivion,
Where lost souls were inevitably forgiven.
The lovers were only reunited because of a fretful cause,
Their ruining secret and ultimate flaw.
They loved each other more than life,
And so ended them and all of their strife.

The town I talk of is finality,
The result of mortality.
For he put a gun to his head,
She took it from him; they both were dead.

The town is a place beneath heads of stone,
Where we will never again be alone.
-holly boyd