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Not so love Poetry; The past does hurt

Updated on January 4, 2011


Thoughts crabbed and pale

consume the body

no tears yet, only that sick feeling

you’ll not be home tonight.

Losing you to another,

     the story of us.


People whisper, I can’t hear them,

I know what they say

    cowards, all of us.

Unable to speak the truth

over fear of being


 (I am already there)


My unripened heart drags down

as I try to breathe, more like

clutching to my chest, dramatically,

needing attention to know

it’s actually happening.


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