THE BLOND STREAK
A Poem of Love and Despair
When I went to visit her that day, I remembered that blond streak that ran though her flowing brunette hair.
This streak was more than a clump of hair, it was the dash of hope from all sorrow, and it was the glimmer of light within a perpetual darkness.
It would only make sense that on the day I decided to proclaim my feelings true, I offered her my heart, and she politely refused.
My hope began to fade.
For you see, earlier this very day, when I drove miles upon miles to reach the brotherly city, the city of Philadelphia, I pictured my angel, my best friend, my lone companion throughout my sorrow and trouble.
As she opened the doorway of the apartment, I noticed one key difference, that distinctive blond streak was nearly gone.
She explained that she was no longer going to keep the streak which, unbeknownst to her, was always my shining beacon of hope.
Thus it makes sense that in my darkest hour, as I lay with my heart in my hands, my hope faded to sorrow.
The streak of light that was my North Star, the distinctive feature that distinguished my eyes from all others, too faded to nothingness.
Summer came and passed in an instant.
It was her, my angel, my hope and my light.
We were inseparable, but as time passed, the summer ended.
When we left, I swore that if I ever saw her again, I would tell her how much she meant to me.
And when the time came, I did.
Now I stand here with my heart ripped out of my chest, waiting for her to come back and receive it.
I stand here on the edge of this shadowy cliff, no hope to save me, no light to guide me, as they have both faded into the darkness.
Edit: Poem has been majorly rennovated, Second stanza all but removed, thank you for the reviews and critiques. Further criticism is appreciated.