Words Much Like Poetry

a starburst does not forget, no matter how bright its flame; it does not burn away the thread of memory. it consciousness, of brilliant orange spectrum, can still envision, with fiery inner eye, scenes of wrenching pain; its feverish epidermis can still sustain hurts; its seething auricles can still drink in insults, murmured in the barest of whispers, insults which echo timelessly in loud orbits, artificial satellites that resist destruction, close as they are to the devouring element.

NOTE: This is a previously published work (Mom Writer's Literary Magazine - Online Issue, Spring 2007). It was written a number of years ago, at perhaps the lowest point in my life. I would like to share it, though (as it was my first publication, I'm quite proud of it). It was written in a style which is completely varied from the tone I now use in my poetry, so please forgive the few revisions I have made. To view the poem as it was originally published, please visit... http://www.momwriterslitmag.com/Archives/MagazineIssues/Spring2007/Poem8.htm Thank you! is this the price of passion, a life filled with remorse, needless struggle and all-consuming pain a life filled with self-pity, self-loathing and never-ending strife? I grieve for what never was and what shall never be. what has my life become? a river of tears that scathe my face with their heat, their constancy, I am alone in my fears, alone in my pain, alone in my strife he caused it, little one. caused the stres...