Tag Archives: Lost Love

DEAD ON THE VINE by Jeffrey Littrell


I’m running through fire

I can’t catch my breath

is living without love any better than death ?


It’s hard to keep going

when you feel destined to fall

I just can’t get my head wrapped around it at all


under the radar

far off the grid

there’s warrants in Kentucky for the things that I did


4:00 a.m. in Nazareth

my sheets soaked with sweat

I’m losing my grip, but I’ve not let go yet


Crown Royal on the nightstand

right next to my pills

it’s neon and glitter and roadside cheap thrills


in search of redemption

because I can’t find a beer

don’t know where I’ll find it, but I know it’s not here


my love is a flower

that’s withered and brown

dead on the vine since the day you left town





storms sound different when you travel alone
when you’ve been running your entire life
in search of where you’re meant to be

perhaps that place
where Spanish moss hung from the trees in sympathy

does the love we hold inside of us
have an expiration date
if not given away,
does it eventually rust
or crumble to dust

as the words in a classic novel
stand ignored on the shelf,
my love lies dormant.
while the grinning demon
at my side
sheds another layer of skin

become polaroids in an old shoe box
regrets of love lost
cast shadows on the promise of a new day

with the coming of dusk, left hoping
that the comfort from her breast
might return me to the place I was before

beneath the Spanish moss

SAVANNAH by Jeffrey Littrell

I am imprisoned by that moment in time,
trying to move forward against phantom restraints,
clinging tightly to her memory
as if it were a rosary

the stained glass window
contained an aperture
that let just the right amount of sunshine
fall upon the narthex

outside, a renegade yellow balloon
drifted above the Southern Live Oaks
as the Spanish moss
hung wet with dew

OCTOBER SKY by Jeffrey Littrell

constellations blink
and sparkle like pink champagne
do you see them, too ?

ABIGAIL CHARMAINE by Jeffrey Littrell


a sprig of baby’s breath

is all that I have left

of Abigail Charmaine, of Devonshire

she passed, still in her youth

and no one knew the truth

of our sweet union, born from passion’s fire


her father cursed my lineage

questioning my parentage

concluding, I not worthy of her hand

his wealth and his position

the strength of his volition

ensured that all must heed to his demand


she’d steal away at night

kept well out of sight

and meet me in the mists of Avalon

a clandestine embrace

her moonlight-haloed face

an angel that the stars shine down upon


soon her visits ceased to be

he kept her locked away from me

the grief and sorrow tore my world apart

her sweet spirit, then her mind

left her in due time

until she finally died of broken heart


so now when moonlight’s gleaming

it starts my tears to streaming

evoking memories of my heart’s desire

she’s a distant weeping ghost

this one I love the most

Abigail Charmaine, of Devonshire

DECEMBER WIND by Jeffrey Littrell


she has a visceral, broken spirit

and a caustic, bitter smile

all of her resolve, forever broken

with her heart an open wound

and her eyes, dull and dim

from stolen love and goodbyes left unspoken


I’ll gladly show compassion

I’ll hold her when she cries

but I am not the one to stop her tears

her heart still beats for him, you see

though he has since moved on

to heal, takes longer than it first appears


when I am feeling pensive

from sentimental memories

and the December wind brings forth a frigid rain

I’ll offer her my topcoat

to guard against the chill

but I will never free her from her pain

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