deepundergroundpoetry.com
Waiting
She keeps her fists in pockets
shy of blood-crusted cuticles; a
shameful mark of her
lost faith.
He speaks slowly, she begs
him to rethink his testament;
these words won’t land on her hazy heart.
Reading his metered movements, she
feels her body fold
to the floor.
shy of blood-crusted cuticles; a
shameful mark of her
lost faith.
He speaks slowly, she begs
him to rethink his testament;
these words won’t land on her hazy heart.
Reading his metered movements, she
feels her body fold
to the floor.
Published 26th Sep 2021
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27th Sep 2021 4:10am
Dear U,
The chasm of pain in this poem is so accurate it has its own heartbeat. You have managed to write the depth of pain on this level so brilliantly and in such brevity I can only marvel. I’m too lazy to aspire but totally marvel! H🌷
The chasm of pain in this poem is so accurate it has its own heartbeat. You have managed to write the depth of pain on this level so brilliantly and in such brevity I can only marvel. I’m too lazy to aspire but totally marvel! H🌷
27th Sep 2021 1:59pm
Dear H,
Thank you, kind soul, for your detailed comment. I enjoy your comments so much; I am honoured that you stop by, and humbled that you hear me. I appreciate you.
warmly,
ursa
Thank you, kind soul, for your detailed comment. I enjoy your comments so much; I am honoured that you stop by, and humbled that you hear me. I appreciate you.
warmly,
ursa
Anonymous
- Edited 16th Oct 2021 11:45pm
3rd Oct 2021 8:17pm
<< post removed >>
4th Oct 2021 2:03pm
Darkwoods, thank you! I sincerely appreciate you stopping by, and for your lovely comment. warmly, ursa 💜
8th Nov 2021 8:21pm
