Poetry

February 18, 2009
By xkh143 GOLD, Sandy Hook, Connecticut
xkh143 GOLD, Sandy Hook, Connecticut
14 articles 1 photo 0 comments

The last syllable
of your poem
ran to the edge of the page
And you say I'm deaf
I say I don't hear you

But I do hear you,
I speak to you
You just don't hear me out
I hear you
I listen

But you don't

I should warn you
That in the end
There will only be me,
A keyboard,
Cigarettes
And the thought in the back of your head

Asking when spring
Will come



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