winding whirlpools...

Abandoned by his caresses,
My world lies stagnant,
A mute spectator to a relentless heart.

Stifled like a gold fish
In a crystal clear bowl,
I yearn to reach out to
The love, the beauty outside,
That has left me orphaned-
Of his name.

The wind is but a memory
Of a million songs.
A reminder of
Flowers being seduced
By the passion of callous winds.
They elope with the fertility,
The fragrance and the youth
Of a flower in full bloom
Into a black hole of no return.

He stole my freedom!
The words remain suspended
In caged still air.
I haven't moved in
The prison of abandoned loss.

Empty songs rattle against the walls
Of an echoing, imprisoned mind.
Motionless, I long to escape from me,
A feather adrift, directionless,
In an equally clueless breeze?