The Singer Makes The Song

Poem By Stephanie Bast

what a significance in the way you sang to me
since your voice has been gone
no matter the replacement
it just doesnt feel like a song
nothing that rests my tired eyes
or calms my jerking legs
a tense overwhelmes me
not only tonight
but every night
and thats when i miss him most
lying in my bed
waiting for my song

Comments about The Singer Makes The Song

There is no comment submitted by members.

5 out of 5
0 total ratings

Other poems of BAST


and here im left again
hunchedbacked and crying
i wonder if your ego filled eyes
can see me

Kiss To Grave

a lovers kiss
like death creeping towards my lips
turning them cold as stone
love is dead to me


buried in my mind
but still buried there
i havnt yet found a good place to hide
your memories rest in me

I Let Him

and somehow through my screaming
i can still hear you say this is my fault
my fault cause i took it
too scared to stand up

Hes Still There

he whispers in to her ear
and his breath falls upon her cheek
his hands climb up her throat
and start to push