alone on this trip to paris
no warm arm here to hold me
no lips yearning to kiss me
no fingers intertwining my long hair
what a feeling of loneliness
that led me to sleep
only to dream of the past
that left our relationship to a steep
those everlasting words you spoke
that drained into my heart
i can hear your soft whispers
that linger in my presence
a black shadowy figure standing before me
reaches out and tries to touch me
and just when our hands nearly touch
i awake with a dissapointing expression on my face
tears begin falling like little rain droplets
forming a puddle with an image of you
so know more cries
as i wiped my sore eyes
and held my head high
with my bags by my side
to walk the path of a new life
elena winters
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/moving-on-84/
