Unfinished
(Originally written 29 October
1993)
Its nights like these
When the evening whispers
A soft lullaby
Very few ever get to hear
Or appreciate
Into the nothingness
Drifts my mind
My thoughts bear
The sweetness of your smile
The gentleness of your voice
And this same emptiness
My arms embrace
Pretending
That the cold evening breeze
Bears semblance
Of your warm, delicate body
I once held
That one sleepless
September night
And though it hurts
What choice have I
But to believe
That for one brief moment
You were mine
This poem is a thought for you
Although there remains
Much to be said
It is best to leave this,
Like its title,
Unfinished.
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