The DAY It died
And that’s the day It died.
Slow burn
Yearn
It was
Never strong
Long
it played
Real Hope
Scope
Was weak
Needed more
Door
Was closed
Smile dry
Why
I wondered
Grief inside
Tried
I did
Fancy shell
Hell
Unknown too
Reaching out
Pout
I mustered
Failed how
Cowed
I let go
Lingered still
Chill
It comes
What’s the point
Disjoint
It is
Matters yet
Fret
Continues
What is hidden
Forbidden
I won’t know
Left unmade
Paid
In full…
The Day it died.
Paula Antonello Moore, Poetry. Copyright: Wednesday, April 22, 2015
Wow. Really interesting….! On 4/22/15 10:48 PM, “The Expressib