Dark Places

Dark Places 8

Dark Places 8 (Photo credit: Mark Ramsay)

Great pleasure was found
in studying the braid of her
hair as it flowed over the nape
of her neck, skin the color
of a peach yet to ripen,
soft as the fuzz.

Another memory hewn
from the aching knots
of a brief moment of
sobriety, held together
with a mortar of self-
loathing, pity and release.

No good can come from
having tarried too long
at this shrine to lost love,
strung with banners of
neglect and abuse.

Remote corners of torment
have yet to be explored,
the extent of wretchedness
to which can be sunk
not fully fathomed.

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3 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

3 responses to “Dark Places

  1. Shawna

    This is so sad, Mark. These sections are especially powerful:

    “Another memory hewn
    from the aching knots
    of a brief moment of
    sobriety, held together
    with a mortar of self-
    loathing, pity and release.”

    “Remote corners of torment
    have yet to be explored,
    the extent of wretchedness
    to which can be sunk
    not fully fathomed.”

  2. k~

    Well written. Emotionally charged.

  3. aching sympathy is aroused by your poem. You surely know how to tickle the emotions.

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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