The Tower

 

 

Tomorrow falls flat like a tomato dropped
from the ninth story window. I'm dangling
my hard earned cash from fingers
bent on hoarding every thread-bare sheet
tucked away in the linen closet just
because it still smells like your perfume:
oleander. I can still taste it:

the speed I swallowed to force time forward

instead of back. That day you turned towards the door

while I opened the curtains

and looked down.

 

 

 

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lyrycsyntyme's picture

This is a truly great piece

This is a truly great piece of writing. To be able to get a deep feeling and sense of what such an addiction is like, having never experienced it, is a credit to your words. I hope you are writing beyond this place and time of suffering, now.

Starward's picture

Your adroit and inimitable

Your adroit and inimitable use of metaphor and simile to express an emotional state never---and I mean, NEVER---fails to amaze, impress, and instruct me.  In a very short time, you have become one of my very favorite poets on postpoems, and I gladly---and very enthusiastically---applaud your work, your talent, and your exquisite verbal constructions.


Starward