Saturday, June 10, 2017

Memories of an Empty Bed

There is no Help Wanted sign in this window
But I jaunt through the door, saying "where do I begin?"

I push the truth to prove me wrong on lucky citizens
Backed with yada yada data and names as talismans,

But no souls are harmed, in the being endured
And enduring, when hope leaves lips, and worse, returns,

And my life is lived, as if on stage,
Looks of pathos as replacement for applause.

To get closer to the vapor of another's eyes
Is the evasion, as shadows move away from trees.

How could I care? If it wasn't for loneliness
What would I do with my life?


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