I wrote this in october this year, a couple of days before my 17th birthday. It's about a failed relationship even though I based it on a false idea. I haven't been in a relationship for a while but when I looked at the page this poem was written and turns out that was what it was about. I also wrote this on another site under the name RoadandtheRadio. Do I have a furute as a writer?
Wildwood Flower
Beneath night I confide,
On sheets thin to hold ink,
Scrawled in minute stains.
Neglected wildwood flower,
Pale petals drawn into center,
Not knowing how long it lay,
Dying on torn sketchbook page,
Or when it first bloomed bright.
Beneath night I confide,
On mind chained, weighed down.
The cold air touching my lungs,
Freezing an out stretched hand,
Dropped into life’s empty pocket.
Blue lips whisper an icicle apology,
Swept into wind’s equal wail echo.
Alone waits I, pale wildwood flower.
2006-12-19
14:26:50
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