Jul 12 2012
My heart is gone.
I press one black back note, hear the sound
Push the pedal to the ground
My heart is missing, I feel dead
My fingers move like sheets of lead
The music fades, my hands are still
I’ll get up soon. I swear I will…
I stroke the wood, whisper your name
But playing this is not the same
This song was meant for you to hear
Not played alone and dead, but clear
I close my eyes and start again
I’ll play the song and get up, then
My hands are shaking, miss your voice
The urge to call suppressed by choice
I’m sure you hate me… Wait, you don’t.
You don’t remember, and you won’t.
I sign and start the song once more,
My feet tap-tapping on the floor
I feel a drop of salt rain fall
More come, and then… I lose it all.
My hands still moving, not quite right
Moved down an octave; unclear sight
I sob and choke, but I won’t quit!
My heart is gone, not my spirit
The words, unbidden, come to me
I cry them out so brokenly
My hands still clutching at the keys
I’m broken, old friend. Good God, Please!
Please?
This post was submitted by pixie.
(1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
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hey…gripping,with a touch of urgency and need.very good.
😀 🙂 😀
you have two ands on the 10th line.
@WickedLovely Thank you for reading, and for the kind comment ;D
@Max Thanks for pointing out the obvious, asshole. I noticed. Do you realized that you cannot edit poems here?
amazing piece of writing, you should think about getting a book of poetry published from what I’ve seen of your work 🙂
Thank you for the gracious comment(s)! 🙂
I have thought about it, actually ^_^ but it’s a far-fetched dream I’ll probably never accomplish.
that’s one great effort you’ve made there!:D
Thank you for reading.
Wait, what the hell is this? Who is trying to impersonate my amazing self? o.0 Well first of all, it’s very flattering to know I have fans. But, that was fail >.> get some imagination and start coming up with better insults. Like for example, the fact that this “person” has run out of ideas. Seriously, we all know you should retire from poetry. This is just one of the other 119 similar poems about death and self-pity poems. It’s okay pixie, not everyone is born with the talent of words. Let this site move on.
With all the love from my consciousnesses,
Your Friendly Friend, Max.
Max.
I am losing my patience with you.
You’re just a lonely little fucked-up pshycopath with no idea of what REAL poetry actually is. The reason this is poetry, is because it means something to the person who wrote it and maybe to a few readers who can relate.
The fact that you’re insulting somebody who often writes about suicide and how hard it is to keep from letting go, only shows how little compassion you really have.
Also, I don’t pity myself. If I did, I’d be just one more suicide statistic instead of actually fighting every day to stay alive.
Maybe my poetry isn’t the best – I still have a lot to learn, I know – but rather give positive feedback to me (and the other poets you’ve insulted) and by doing so, give us a chance to grow as artists and as people.
If you can’t say anything positive (or don’t know what the word means) please just stop commenting.
fixed the typo in the poem
and guys cut out this unnecessary bickering and don’t be judgemental of poems, everyone has their own likes/dislikes and tastes
Please don’t discourage others
Max. Please stop. Why are you even doing this? Does it make you feel good about yourself, to hate on what other people like? Seriously dude… If you don’t like it, then don’t enter this page. Please dude… Stop. This is just ridiculous.