agonia english v3 |
Agonia.Net | Policy | Mission | Contact | Participate | ||||
Article Communities Contest Essay Multimedia Personals Poetry Press Prose _QUOTE Screenplay Special | ||||||
|
||||||
agonia Recommended Reading
■ The oak
Romanian Spell-Checker Contact |
- - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2008-12-02 | |
I was mapping my way thru years, thru you.. No cross signs lately, no warnings, no speed limits. No more.
I am losing my mind, probably. I keep seeing myself as a freeway, as the grey asphalt, as the blue sky hanging around, as a road kill, a victim of my own obsession for speed. Nothing is fast enough for me. I am not fast enough for me and for this life that’s sucking my energy to the last drop. I am tired. I’m sticking red pins on my map, on my shoulders, where you used to kiss me. And it hurts. You know it hurts, you knew it years ago, when you were asleep on a cold grey stone, and the sea was calmer than ever. I stood there, awake, looking at you, breathing you, whispering your name in my thoughts. Never again. It will never be another night like that, surrounded by water. I will never say a man’s name out loud, in an eternal promise, in front of Her. For She is the witness of my true self.
|
||||||||
Home of Literature, Poetry and Culture. Write and enjoy articles, essays, prose, classic poetry and contests. | |||||||||
Reproduction of any materials without our permission is strictly prohibited.
Copyright 1999-2003. Agonia.Net
E-mail | Privacy and publication policy