PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Bent cigarettes in front of rainy railroad stations when I

I wanted to save both of them but

Firefighters on the wall told the same story:

A juxtaposition of wills that left us just

Blind men, on signed streets that we drove to

Hollow hearts, hemorrhaging oil and gears broken in

Half spoken half reminisced worries

Coalesced and coaxed, the captured; tiny black balls,

Burnt and dirty leftovers of a parade of

Nights that start and end in lock down where

We used to sleep and eat and share

Clownstories above the bulls and tiny cars running on

Mouse turds and mistakes and the unholy power;

About half of the world’s population from

Twain and Swift, Lee, we left the

Diners and nowhere, to collapse our heavy forms,

Before red doors and sloppy, silent listening to

Sirens and cars that can’t be bothered and would have tried harder but

Didn’t or couldn’t or the Universe just doesn’t…

Let you go