Spectral Spectator

I am led right towards this light

As it burns bright through the night

Two wise men lead the way

One priest does naught but pray.


My love you have forsaken me

Like Cupid’s heresy

Should make front page news

In place of God’s abuse.


Soft uncertainty, noisy creeping

Field barren, no harvest reaping

So I exorcise all our memories

For that, don’t blame me, please.


Nature failed to recognise

Pleading behind my eyes

I have no more to give for you

No more want; offer overdue.


It’s time to lay that ghost to rest

Old, flaming passion second best

A spectre of once proud dictator

Farewell to you, mere sad spectator.


Violets are blue and roses are red

Shrivelled bouquet, brown, wilted.

Roses are red and violets are blue

Those flowers are dead and inside I too.


© Kris Blackburn 07/09/2015


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