deepundergroundpoetry.com
Refilling
The window was open…
the old familiar rasped and cracking voice bellowing through it to the open air.
Call it does for me to come to place and side of something to fill the void of heart.
There is something to be said about the way we are just…
the way we are now.
Matching pains have brought us to be something without need or want of definition.
We are simply refilling on empty.
There is no certainty and clearly its unneeded,
just us...
just me
just you..
we.
Laughter bellowing through an open window,
moans echoing down the halls…
The simple whispers of want, of need fill the dark.
the old familiar rasped and cracking voice bellowing through it to the open air.
Call it does for me to come to place and side of something to fill the void of heart.
There is something to be said about the way we are just…
the way we are now.
Matching pains have brought us to be something without need or want of definition.
We are simply refilling on empty.
There is no certainty and clearly its unneeded,
just us...
just me
just you..
we.
Laughter bellowing through an open window,
moans echoing down the halls…
The simple whispers of want, of need fill the dark.
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