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Image for the poem 4

4

 
'This quietude I cherish
But the ringing in my ears'


Ripples in the fabric, flowing
Outward from the core
Where I'd discarded my yearning
And swam back to shore


Waking to the same dark
That last night felled me
Between blades of the fan
A shade only I see


Four years
And nothing has changed
Still days
Saw the dusk on the pane


Every brief encounter is dry
Different song, same score
Grueling to find anything I
Enjoy anymore


You found me on the back
Of that hand he kissed
But that regret I lack
Left spite on your wrist


Four years
And I never changed
Don't say
They refined me with age


Infrequently, I would return
The trail stretched on further
Now indistinguishable turns
From the wilderness I much prefer



'A stranger arrives again
To bury those who'd forgotten him'
Written by UbiquitousVoid (. . . . . . . . .)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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