Ripples Of Forgotten Poem by Jeremy Horsford

It has been a while since you fell asleep and I wondered how what why, why is it that I continue to cry, when I think of you.

Is it that you pierced the organ in the middle of my chest, or your inaudible sweetest of words tickle my mind, my thoughts until they nest, in my subconscious, making me think there was not a world beyond us?

You were the beginning of an infinite journey to owning my tears, every last drop of you sliding to collating unearthed baron seasons and harvesting the last of the winters.

That ash which we pretended was snow, was the residual dreams of our world engulfed in flames by intruders continuing the disbelief of fallen windows into my soul.

I scream, rolls of tears awake the emptiness and there is no redress, just hopelessness leading to negativity flourishing while a cohort begs me to survey the panorama, before the dim light dwindles and opportunity is eaten by the flicker.

I am disillusioned, and pain comforts me while reverie attempts to resuscitate a hopeful position, and I beg the world, please, please, please let me burn, otherwise there is no opportunity to live and learn.