PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

where does my last true breath fall

in the mist of the 'after tomorrow'

upon the gates of such graphic

nostalgia stabbed

I hear the lamplights still hissing

to life

I am beyond this night mare I call you

or so I must believe

the police tell me

you will be the one hurting

when you go to jail

in unfazed response

I smile a weary small smile

feeling like

in that promised moment

I will be almost like you

I still can not stomach that fleeting feeling

those policemen's words gave to me

my soul still rises

every now so often in me to shush the terror

that, that one thought can bring............

(written Nov. 5, 2002 1045pm)