BROKEN BALLAD

PHOTO BY PIXABAY

Listen carefully,

You’ll hear the somber song,

In my sadness.

That piercing falsetto,

Shatters the mirrored doorway.

Tears stream down,

Rigid and swift.

An enigmatic flow,

Unaware of their fate…

They were in firm solidarity,

With my heartbreak.

Synchronization so metrical;

Feeling like a puppet on a string.

These masterminds,

Of this dreary hole,

I now dwell in…

As I sit here,

Doleful and dejected,

The rhythmic chant,

Consumes inside of me.

Glum quivers,

Unending…

(c) Monica St Hillaire. 2021.

MASQUERADE BALL…

PHOTO BY PIXABAY
Foolish as it may seem,
I am in love with a memory.
That reeked of a charade,
Hide and seek,
The kind children play.
You left like a summer's end,
Dredging all my warmth.
My hands remained clenched,
For you were gone.
Evanescent clouds before my eyes,
My faith as big as Gibraltar,
Now a sunken pebble.
I await the pale moonlight,
To eagerly catch some hope.
Inside is just too empty...
The hollow sound is boisterous.
As I stare into your eyes,
I anticipated my reflection.
But you turned toward the meadow,
So I could not see.
Even a broken mirror,
Would have made me happy.
As I muster courage to move on,
Walk these dim lit streets,
I sometimes turn back.
Bent on seeing your face.
Convinced that I,
Made no mistake in,
Unconditionally loving you.
And foolish as it may seem,
I still do...

(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2020.