Pieces of Death

Sitting in the darkness;
Waiting for the sun, to write;
I was dreaming of you, again,
Through the long and lonely night.
I hate those little pieces of death,
So I avoid them when I can;
I write until my thoughts turn away
From that never, ever land.
I really wouldn't mind the dreaming
If they just weren't so real;
I've studied every nuance of yours,
And every inch of you, I can feel.
Those thoughts I do not tolerate;
They lead, inexorably, to pain;
I always awaken a broken man
To have lost your love again.

© MadPoetnExile

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