Pages Of A Woman's Soul

454,743 poems read


What is it about the allure
of death that makes
a man's heart long
for it in times of
mystic confusion?

Is it a false, anticipated peace;
a spectral lover's embrace;
the gentle, warm cradle
he feels as he drifts away
after making love?

Does the pain of being
so greatly supercede
the true joy of love and
the beauty of existence,
that purgatory is preferred?

Can the fascination
be felt anywhere else
in living that could make
him yearn to stay, to
fight for his next breath?

Will I ever be able to show
you that life as you've imagined
is within reach, waiting for you
to step onto its stage,
for all of heaven to applaud?

Or will you forever yearn
for the finality of

Oh my love, may you die in my arms...
aged and satisfied with your years.

K.Tate Jacoby
April 9, 2008

 Get a playlist! Standalone player Get Ringtones 

Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem