“I’m no good for you.
Please,
just let me go,”
she whispered
through trembling lips.
“I’m not who
you think I am
and we can
never
be more than this.”
“But what if this,”
he cried,
“Is just what we need?
For you’re my Now.
And my Forever.”
“It can never be.”
So closing her shining eyes,
she turned away for, behold,
the tears had already
begun to flow down
her pale, sunken cheeks.
tara caribou | ©️2017
Original poetry | Poem is me
Either your life is art or it's a piece of work.
Poetry
It's All About the Fantasy
Poet. Starscraper. Song whisperer. Niño de las estrellas.
Writen word and poetry
Author | Freelance Writer | Blogger
Writings of a mad man. Orson Welles once said: "He eats pizza!".
A New England Poet writes Poetry, Haiku, Fables & Criticism
teeny tall tales and occasional doodles
colouringchaos
Thoughts-poetry on life, nature and spiritual
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We're all on a road to somewhere.
This is sad
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Or maybe meant to be
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Oh it’s anguish…but beautiful.
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You’re good at this. Very good, and I like it, because it’s genuine, but that poem where you personified an owl, and used an allegory of sorts was just something else. Excellent.
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You are seriously too kind. That means a lot, that you are touched by a few words that have poured out of me.
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This is right in the feels 🧡
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Thank you
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As sad as it may seem, these things need to happen sometimes and we have to move on. Love how you capture such feelings so well.
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Thank you.
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So heartbreaking. 😢
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Just another way of self-protection. Leaving him before he leaves her.
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So much love, joy, blessings and dreams missed out on when one lives that way. I always feel like that way is unfair because it feels like someone is making my decision for me.
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You know, I never thought of it that way. Thanks for making me think. 🤔 Truly. Gives me much to ponder all of the sudden.
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This is an interesting one. First and foremost, the limitation enforced is so real. It may not be perceived as real, but it is because it is made to be. If you don’t feel that more is possible, then there is no reason to force it; on the other hand, whether more is needed is an open question (at least here) and the issue then becomes – for who? Maybe one side is okay with this not being more, but the other side isn’t.
In a way, this perfectly illustrates the dilemma of the ages.
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Going in to the explanation behind this “different for tara” poem would take more space up than the poem itself, or even what it’s worth. It’s a little bit of experimentation mixed with role reversal or maybe opposites. Who knows, eh?
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