Last Time, Last Dance
Date: Tuesday, 4th December 2007 @ 01:00:44 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry


Contributed By: Maccabeus

Last Time, Last Dance

No rest for the weary,
No pay for the poor,
The world is a taint,
Nothing is pure.

I once believed that,
Falling down through the clouds,
That love doth forsake us,
Alone in a crowd.

I took it for dogma,
And chisel and steel.
And left me empty,
With nothing to feel.

And with nothing,
Nothing is what only you’ll get,
Because nothing penetrated
The sadness and sweat.

But, then I met her,
On a dazzling night,
The black of her dress,
Swallowed the night.

Something came into place,
And suddenly clicked.
Like a switch that had never came on,
Or had forgotten to be flicked.

Something connected,
Between two lost and romantic,
That turned us both,
Into blubbering semantics.

She danced with me,
And now I even remember,
The smell of her hair,
And I’ll never forget her

Last Place, Last Time,
I can ever remember.
The sounds of the past,
That I never surrender
And I know in my heart,
That night in December,
Will never be lost,
Though death do me part,
Through the dealing of cards,
And the dying of arts,
The love in one moment was just so pure,
The Infection, the Sadness,
The Pain and the Cure.

I take more than I came with,
And more love than I lost,
And I’ll always save one last dance.
Whatever the cost.



This poem is Copyright © Maccabeus



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