deepundergroundpoetry.com
Stone Cold Sober
The house is strange and silent
No longer the air of waiting
Anticipation forgotten
Carried away inside your boxes
I drift into the kitchen
And know I am making
Too much coffee again
But the bitterness suits
The taste in my mouth
The taste of the one
Left behind
There are only angles
To meet my eyes
Soft edges have sharpened
And your pillow is cold
I speak a word into the air
And it hangs there
Before leaning against the wall
Like a patient child
I have no use for sunlight
Or dancing dust
This morning I sat down
And realized the waiting
Is over and you
Are gone for good
No longer the air of waiting
Anticipation forgotten
Carried away inside your boxes
I drift into the kitchen
And know I am making
Too much coffee again
But the bitterness suits
The taste in my mouth
The taste of the one
Left behind
There are only angles
To meet my eyes
Soft edges have sharpened
And your pillow is cold
I speak a word into the air
And it hangs there
Before leaning against the wall
Like a patient child
I have no use for sunlight
Or dancing dust
This morning I sat down
And realized the waiting
Is over and you
Are gone for good
Published 9th Jun 2015
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 4
reading list entries 1
comments 3
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The author encourages honest critique.
9th Jun 2015 9:03pm
Oh this is good. The feeling of isolation and hard truth is overwhelming. Love this, Zoe.
10th Jun 2015 5:21am
FindingZoe, luv ~ :-*
This is achingly heart-wrenching, poignant, desolate. You have conveyed with expert precision and skilled craft this sense of being bereft, an acceptance of bittersweet despair.
I love this:
I speak a word into the air
And it hangs there
Before leaning against the wall
Like a patient child
Because here in this tiny snippet lies hope; not hope for the past, oh no, that's dead and gone, it's clear. This is hope of the burgeoning future. In that metaphor of a patient child, luv...
Tis the smallest sliver, but it's there, peeking out. :-*
Exquisitely done.
This is achingly heart-wrenching, poignant, desolate. You have conveyed with expert precision and skilled craft this sense of being bereft, an acceptance of bittersweet despair.
I love this:
I speak a word into the air
And it hangs there
Before leaning against the wall
Like a patient child
Because here in this tiny snippet lies hope; not hope for the past, oh no, that's dead and gone, it's clear. This is hope of the burgeoning future. In that metaphor of a patient child, luv...
Tis the smallest sliver, but it's there, peeking out. :-*
Exquisitely done.
17th Aug 2016 6:18am
