Silence , louder than a gunshot
The pulse of emptiness, my constant companion
It’s the lonely heart that is maddening
As darkness becomes life
In contemplation of broken expectation
Repetitious moments of nothingness
As time stretches
Surety becomes insolence
Indifference a witness
Of events, yet material
The truth is a bitter pill
As promises become monotonous rout
In the face of steel cold expectation
Yet , never made real
Assurances ring hollow
As each grain of sand descends
Tick, tick, tick
Ringing like a gong in my brain
Though, in truth, passes in silence
A dream though held dear,  yet in vain?
Once more, I’m left wanting… needing…
Believing in the shining contemplation
The image of the fortunate
Drunk on the wine of the amorous soul
Yet, betrayed by my foolish fate
Adrift on the questioning tide
Of Indifference
Each day I wake , pursuing a future
That exists in a flux on ambiguity
Like mists at dawn, fleeting
Ethereal
Unreal
Such is my witness
Each experience, flavorless
Unsubstantiated
Unrequited
Never reciprocated
I exist, survive the onslaught
Of inner demons
As they celebrate my misery
Cheer my pain
As the beauty I pursue seems oblivious
Of my tortured existence
My doubtful gaze
I suffer in silence
With baited breath
And hope against hope
My emotional wounds are self-inflicted
Rather than a Damocles blade
To strike my already broken and battered soul
Shattering a future yet written
A fate left undreamed.

An Original Poem By H.R. Beebe