Her expectations are dazed,
she has nothing to look forward
to, but to remember in only a
Only to see her effort at hand,
to the moment that left her heart
wounded and in profound misery.
Deep, deep in the midst of her soul.
Now she surrenders her grief to the night,
to time that follows her always
faithful and exact, next to her in
every move she makes.
She gave to surrender and buried her
dreams in a garden of broken
appetence, her blood so warm,
now is cold, like a winters night.
There's no one to fervor it. She's lost
in the middle of her empty desires;
lost and can't find a route, to enter
and lose all of this passion she has no use for.
Elena Toledo's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Extinct by Elena Toledo )
- This Is Our Mega City, Bijay Kant Dubey
- Love is a Liquid ~~~ vs.55, Monk E. Biz
- Global Village, Bijay Kant Dubey
- PRETTY GOOD START.., ging taping
- Draw me in your heart, Nehemiah Theophylus Haokip
- The thirst is a thorn., Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
- Simple toys, hasmukh amathalal
- Acquaintance across the gender, Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
- Begining of my love, Nehemiah Theophylus Haokip
- What is all truth, Nehemiah Theophylus Haokip
Poem of the Day
- 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
- Footsteps of Angels, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Primary Colours, vince gullaci
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep, Mary Elizabeth Frye
- Alone, Edgar Allan Poe
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)