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Literature Text
There used to be the comfort of the words-
bereft, bereft, a woman drips her opalescent tears,
where thin-lipped men look on, away.
As common as cats, lives are.
bereft, bereft, a woman drips her opalescent tears,
where thin-lipped men look on, away.
As common as cats, lives are.
Literature
Unbutton
I declared love dead.
There was a ceremony, and I did the obituary.
"Dear love. I told you so."
Then the burial of an empty gesture, broken
promises integrating with the earth.
I visited the grave, let my fingers run
along the unmarked stone. I would sit at the TV at night,
awash in a sea of detergent and other peoples' wives,
forgetting everything about this. One day I just woke up cold.
And it was fine.
I wrote my acceptance on the inside of my door.
Life is full as it is. Full of spoons and dirt and ways to slowly dig.
Full of reflections on what passes and what does not.
Curled up in itself, a wad of dirty bills. Life is
blu
Literature
inglorious
i am all smiles
and pale sun,
too.
and we are wild
things
it's true.
but in past lives
i was good.
Literature
53
at Delphi
I ask
her name
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© 2012 - 2024 riparii
Comments60
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I'm reading your poetry and am very impressed. I often can't "get" poetry, but yours is more accessible.