Idol Carved

Is Placed
In your hands,
And we still
Die worlds apart,
With you I saw
Such sweet
Futures that
Nothing now
Could ever
Bewitching grace,
And am I right
For still dreaming
Of each and every
Day that could
Have been?
Serenity, purpose,
Were these just masks
That I couldn’t see,
Still too blind
I follow you,
Is this my mask
blinding me?
You were a rose
In an endless
Barren field
And in your name
I die each year
With thirty days
Of sorrow,
For countless
I can only
Ever wallow,
Here and there
I see your stare
Across my news feed,
Once more
I drown in you,
Selfishly erode
The life I sometimes feel
I fake away
Because nothing
Feels absolute without
You here,
Just postponement
Of the world
That should have been,
Etched destinies
Should be delivered,
Yet time cannot rewind,
You are my loop,


Poem © Phen Weston


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