deepundergroundpoetry.com

On Any Given Sunday

On
any given
Sunday,
I'll write a poem
that is not a poem;
more like a love letter
to all the summers I've wasted;
an apology to all the moments
I've hesitated to live in.

It turns into a private sermon
preached from an empty pulpit;
a soliloquy of solitude written by
an open window, framing Springtime
and Armageddon like van Gogh.

It will be riddled with
anxiety and sweetness;
a broken syrupy pancake
too close to touching
scrambled eggs sitting
on a square plate
at a 90 degree angle.

It will become the
ghost of lips haunting
the nape of my neck;

a graveyard full of zombie
goosebumps searching for
follicles that no
longer exist.
Written by Abruvanamedsly
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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