Cry In The Garden

And ill spend many a days with a cold heart
Beating a burning desire.
These memories of scents and shades.
burn on and on
a semi vanquished fire.
lovesick thoughts,
de cages all my senses
I'd swear winter falls
On every killer absense.
I've changed my mind on being alone.
My own mind kills me everyday.
Alas!
I've spent many days loved for the illusion I am.
But hated for those very few seconds of truth.
And many achieving naught.
But twice a year I seem to turn solitude to love
And cry in the garden.
And ill spend many days writing of depression.
Trying to achieve a smile
And ill spend many days with a sore throat

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poem by Hunter James
Added by Poetry Lover
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