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
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Going the distance
Labels:
abuse,
angry love,
it makes sense,
poeticbloomings,
senses
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
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?
ReplyDeleteA 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.
ReplyDelete