deepundergroundpoetry.com
-dead season
your eyes could be opaque from torrential wind and rain
yet you'd never allow them to give anything
away to the usual onlookers;
of course, you know we've always had
an extraordinary connection
which in turn has left me pondering
its significance and admiring
the beauty in the fact that we were
ever able to pretend we weren't
completely alien to one another
though we don't talk as much as I'd like
I still find myself wishing I was no longer
left to hope the occasional smiles I do see
were more than just empty promises
because I will always care for you deeply
and I simply know you too well
its like reading a good book
growing more and more
afraid as the pages grow thin
toward the end of each chapter
somehow knowing, it will inevitably
reveal the death of your favorite protagonist
at times I've wondered
if I had ever haphazardly stumbled
into the salvation of your last breath
with one of my random, nonsensicle,
yet obviously witty, and hilarious messages
its felt that way to me before
but like you, I said nothing
even though it seemed as if I could sense your
heart quietly overflowing while you intently
try to focus between bothersome tears
longing for an end to the unrelenting torrent
kept neatly hidden under the guise of a new day
like the first snow of a new year
patiently falling with silent determination
to forget the remains of another dead season
yet you'd never allow them to give anything
away to the usual onlookers;
of course, you know we've always had
an extraordinary connection
which in turn has left me pondering
its significance and admiring
the beauty in the fact that we were
ever able to pretend we weren't
completely alien to one another
though we don't talk as much as I'd like
I still find myself wishing I was no longer
left to hope the occasional smiles I do see
were more than just empty promises
because I will always care for you deeply
and I simply know you too well
its like reading a good book
growing more and more
afraid as the pages grow thin
toward the end of each chapter
somehow knowing, it will inevitably
reveal the death of your favorite protagonist
at times I've wondered
if I had ever haphazardly stumbled
into the salvation of your last breath
with one of my random, nonsensicle,
yet obviously witty, and hilarious messages
its felt that way to me before
but like you, I said nothing
even though it seemed as if I could sense your
heart quietly overflowing while you intently
try to focus between bothersome tears
longing for an end to the unrelenting torrent
kept neatly hidden under the guise of a new day
like the first snow of a new year
patiently falling with silent determination
to forget the remains of another dead season
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