deepundergroundpoetry.com

Pattern: 53(1237

Pattern: 53(1237

There were words
between you and I
that we didn't say;
that ached internal.

I knew that
we couldn't be born.
It swallowed us.

The final day
was sour and silent.
You didn't acknowledge me
nor I, you.

The half-curled smiles
left me septic; sectioned,
strumming my nerves.

"Please, don't go."
There was a shot
at a person, whole.
"Please, make do."
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Published
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 6 reads 708
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
COMPETITIONS
Today 4:46am by wallyroo92
COMPETITIONS
Today 4:45am by wallyroo92
SPEAKEASY
Today 4:08am by SweetKittyCat5
POETRY
Today 3:59am by Abracadabra
COMPETITIONS
Today 3:56am by Honeybeevee
SPEAKEASY
Today 3:34am by brokentitanium