Windowpane

Windowpane


The exhilarating thrill is dead and gone,
Joy once lived where black now spawns,
My heart still sometimes throbs with a
Hurt that’s insane,
When I can’t believe the scene from my
Windowpane.

I can’t believe, I can’t receive
What it is I see from my windowpane;
Is not what I want, memories still haunt,
My back-lit stained-glass window pain.

Seated I stare, seated I dare
To try to recapture
The thrilling rush and rapture,
But nothing is quite so factual
As the dead-end scenery of what is actually
There,
Nothing that excited like anticipation of
Seeing your face, so fair.

My windowpane betrays me,
My heart so sharp that it filets me,
Burdened with the weight of what once was
I sit and stare and see that my future is a bust.

The exhilarating thrill is dead and gone,
Joy once lived where black now spawns,
My heart still sometimes throbs with a
Hurt that’s insane,
When I can’t believe the scene from my
Windowpane.

Once I waited for you, day by day,
Gazing outside and waiting to see
You,
On the off chance that you might come by
Like you did before;
I gaze at places where you walked and you talked
With this man, leading my heart astray,
And all the colours turn to gray
In this life of mine.

I do not like the scene
I see through my windows now,
Though once it was the scene that gave me hope,
Gave me life.
Now that view is seen through bars,
The bars you erected around me
When you killed me with your (false, fake, unreal, cruel) love.
You took everything that was right, and stabbed it repeatedly
Until it was a bloody smear upon my window pain...

My heart still sometimes throbs with a
Hurt that’s insane,
When I can’t believe,
When I can’t receive,
When I am constantly saddened by
The scene, the scene from my
Windowpane.



January 20th, 2010