Thursday, August 5, 2010

Angsty Poetry

"But our past," she muttered.
So soft and pure.
Sobbing, he pushes her out of the way,
And leaves the room.

His thoughts were perturbed,
And his palms, sweaty.
Desperate and broken,
He knew he could win her over,
No matter what.

He sat, he listened.
She saw change.
Astonished and overwhelmed,
The despair disappeared.
Problem solved.

But the crisis remains,
In the form of a smoggy overcast,
Surrounding her intellect.
And everything will be okay,
If you believe it is okay.

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