Goya's Ghost
I gave my heart to Goya
Oft’ she’d rest my troubled soul
As she let me touch her in that way
That heals the broken into whole
I gave my heart to Goya
I slow studied all her curves
She asked of me to do such things
That vivified the nerves
When I’d spend late nights with Goya
Caressing her with care
She demanded that my fingers
Be placed just exactly there.
I’d fall asleep to Goya’s view
Sometimes she’d share my bed
When after music that we made
Would still play inside my head
There came a night when Goya died
She’d survived a near fatal crash
But this time her neck severed from her back
Her life snuffed out in a flash
I’m haunted now by Goya’s ghost
When some fretful newfound star
Speaks of the one that he loves most,
I still grieve my old guitar.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.