Soft, dragg-ed, somber puff in a cornered hole,
With lights fiddling in some liberated dance
As you and I meticulously roll another life-toll,
Another anxious appeal for a tedious trance.
I never knew why, for she did the wooing,
But I idealized her at first sight and spark,
And, soon enough, I was the one pursuing,
Chasing after this peculiar revolt in dark
And numb nights with nothing else to do.
Contentment was found leaning out windows,
Detachment in the dark, damp air with you,
Winters dust lining the lungs of pale weirdoes.
So for now, behind my ear is lodged a rash,
Only felt when she’s left; the deft seductress
Dressed for my digressions from cash to ash,
Who cares, right? We’re dead already, yes?
Feedback Unnecessary
Looking for poem #2 to read and equally enjoy- Just Being Stella
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