Sombre Walls of A Coffin

Unpublished pieces


I want to scribble down

all the phrases

used on you


by me.
Collect them and wrap
them up in longing
pretenses.  Sell them
all done up in
                                red and white
There is no heat, nor
is there hot water
in this room, so instead 
of scribbling I'll
whine them out
only to have
                                  not heard by you.
I miss the comfort
    of having you sleeping
                                          beside me.
As silly as it is,
                        this comforted.
This gave me contentment.
But you're not sleeping
                      next to me anymore.
You've moved on.
                       Misted out of sight
                                    by the sombre
                                       wall of a coffin.
That leaves me scribbling
                         sanity into my brain.
It is is so quiet inside
                     without you here.

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palewingedpoetess's picture

Sad but...............

I must admit this is quite a beautiful salute to the closure that is death. It comes, whether one is ready for it or not and yet the beauty lays in your own indwelling ability to see through even that and know that even when we die there really is no death, its but a myth the human mind made up to help stave off its own  ego's fear of ending.........I always love reading your poems ( and even your comments to other poets' poems  as you are kindand often helpful but frank!) Sincerely, Melissa Lundeen