End of a Spark
Guess I've given up.
Pretending I don't care
worrying what to wear,
how to do my hair.
Wicker dripping stomach.
Outside my hiding place
disappear without trace,
I know I'm not safe.
Inside I'm hurting.
You know it
but the lines of a poet
can't save us now.
Don't know what to say.
Now that I've told you
I yearn to be with you,
you don't feel the same.
A spark burnt out.
Conversation runs dry
now I don't try,
you ebb away.
2 Comments:
I like this because, well, just because.
Thank you, glad you liked it.
Why is this time of year so depressing?
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