Sunday, April 15, 2012

Going the distance

He thought I would come
to my senses
after I'd missed him awhile

as if distance could make
my bruised soul
fonder of the late nights

worrying where he might be
and who might
be siphoning his angry love

Poetic Bloomings # 51 - senses


  1. Your use of "siphoning" is singular and I love it. It isn't a word one associates with love; rather, with gasoline in all it's harsh volatility. Hard to imagine missing the constant fire hazard. But, they'll think what they'll think, won't they?

  2. A lot said in this short space. Longing, some anger, and hard-(l)earned wisdom. Stop worrying - it's out of your hands lady. Great write, my friend.



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