deepundergroundpoetry.com

Halfway

so much of
this experience
precious, temporal
is wasted
on becoming
invulnerable,
making ourselves
untouchable
until we find that,
in the space
one hair past halfway,
we suddenly can’t
feel a thing

Not present
nor absent,
impending turns
to bygone
on a dime

talking sense
into our souls, we
repetitiously remind
our frailty
that we don’t care ~
until one moment
past the midpoint,
where we realize
we actually don’t
Written by LunaGreyhawk
Published
Author's Note
NaPo 2021 53 unique words
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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