By Nazanine Ladjevardi
Alone, in the haunted dungeon of my mind,
Shadows disguised as nightly ghosts,
I see his steely eyes, almost smiling
At the wound he carved upon my heart.
The air hangs still, an imprisoning cloud,
Impeding the flow of time,
I am chained, in this eternal instant,
To a dream that breathed and died.
My soul, once illuminated by imagined love,
Learned to dance, as if inflamed
By its own symphony of celebration.
Now, I drift deeper into the void of night,
Where grief and solitude sing a lullaby
That carries me into the solace of sleep.
© Nazanine 2003