There is
Nothing left to say
Do, die for.
Tears have been
Shed, dried, and stored
For future use.
The commiseration,
Smiles not quite sure
Of where they belong
Hanging fire, and then some.
Its all done.
Over with
Whats left is
Curiously inconspicuously
Lurking
Alleycat that doesn’t yet
Want to come and play
Catch.
2 comments:
"Smiles not quite sure
Of where they belong" - just the sort of lines which will make anyone sit up and re-read the entire piece! Cute :)
rather late i know but thanks anyway :) Those were the exact lines that sort of made the piece for me when i wrote it. Everything else was strung around that central line that just popped up fully formed. I guess that's the joy of poetry or of any writing... There are essential words or phrases that form the core of the piece and disturb the continuity of that and everything else falls apart.
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