Echoes of Love,
Tunes listened to alone.
Empty echoes sing Karma's song.
Peoples words I can barely hear, yet...
Even the radio is sad. Unknown singers tell my stories...
Happy not even on a bet.
Cheerless to the bone...
Cold poems yelled at blank walls...
Tempos and basses thump away on what sanity I have ...
Whispers of the regrets heard, as they eat me alive...
Sound of memories,
Talks remembered,
Stories relived.
Lies retold, to justify the pain.
Tones of Eros's tombstone, haunt all that I was...
Tales of long ago touches, in my empty bed,
reminding me of physical joy.
Notes of rhymes with no rhythm.
Am I mad? Was I a Toy?
In rages I do see red...
The din of a broken Heart beating...
Blood from within pounding, bruising...
Pain blaring within my head.
The uproar of loneliness, ever so loud...
So I hide in anothers words written; anothers loves, and wins...
Isolation booming! Dreams crashing screaming...
Alone in crowded rooms.
To love again I dread.
Retrospection? Therapy? Karma? Lessons learned?
What could have been said?
A deed could have been done?
Stray thoughts; each with a song of their own.
Death alone is looming. Not even vergil will walk with me down that
slope...
Fingers ache as old songs played, strings lie telling of love unknown to the
player.
The violins of my Soul plays the bluest blues...
Regrets grooming tonights nightmares...
A forsaken pen, writes of what should be... yet each line untrue.
So the page just does lay.
How can the sky be so blue, when I feel so black?
Could I really have lost
that which was never really mine?
Was I loved?

Now I go,
Nothing more this night to say...