An old oak tree that hangs in the night, lit by the moon.
A cloying smell of the jasmine bloom.
This taste hangs between us like a moan
and beckons us to venture far from home.
To tame my wild, brambled heart.
Rip wide the tide that holds the ocean at its start.
A mountain of remembrance,
becomes the fragrance of regret.
I taste of salt from the waterfall of tears I let.
While, owls eyes pierce right through you,
and lend me the truth of how I never knew you.
This taste hangs between us like a moan,
and quells the trembles of my bone.
I see that there is nothing left for us to build
A mountain has come between to cause…
a valley we will never fill.
In this night sanguine,
The full moon hangs heavy,
but with pride,
reminding me of how I encompass the tide,
which rips wide the ocean at its start….
and rolls in to whisper of how you are not worthy of my heart.

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...