Here is a new poem in kind of a different format. It really stems from the first two lines of the poem, a phrase that kept echoing of the caverns of my mind that I wanted to incorporate into a poem. When I started writing it though I realized that I wanted those words to precursor the poem, to not be a part of the actual poem. I wanted something that stated a message and then went from there. I like how it sets itself out a little different, but overall I am open to some feedback on it.
*Note* I did edit one line based on a pretty good suggestion, scrapping a rhyme of scent and sent to scent and lament. I think it makes it contextually stronger. Thanks Jason.
The End of The World
I closed my eyes tonight,
And I awoke to the end of the world.
Its as if the fires then succumbed the sky,
As I clutched at bonds that held me bound.
A sudden flash of heat and flame.
The clap of thunder now the only sound.
Tears then fall from senseless loss,
Though they quench not my pain.
Missing you just hurts to much,
Yet of your memory I can't abstain.
Trapped inside these fears and doubts,
A passion now remorsely cold.
I die again with each new breath,
From the thoughts of you that I behold.
I dreamed the world did end today,
And awoke to find it true.
Not of war or fire, flood nor famine
Just the loneliness of missing you.
My house is now a barren waste,
A blight upon once fertile land.
Haunted by the ghosts of past,
Just another horror I must stand.
When I close my eyes you're trapped inside,
A holocaust in shadows caught.
And I dream my death in peaceful days,
Still your prisoner in this war we fought.
My arm caresses that empty sheet,
Soft of silk still holds your scent.
You're not there when I awake,
All that's left is my lament.
I built my myself upon your love,
Wrapped inside that warmest soul,
And now that you have gone away,
My heart is naught but an empty hole.
A trailing path of trinkets left,
Some clothes still on the rack,
Reminders of the life were shared,
Telling me you'll not come back.
I close my eyes a final time,
As the world itself slowly dies.
End of Line.