PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

They say it is about love,

     But I know better than to believe them,

     Completely and utterly.

Broken and disengaged,

They tell me she has been chiseled apart,

But she is still useful.

     From here [and now] to [now and] here is a long way

With many miles in between.

This strobelight of hands is some quiet pulsation

     Through and between and of my bones,

Dainty and silent

     And strangely lethargic.

     Snapping into fourths and thirds and asexual balance,

Un-in love,

     I've plastered my own sorry self with the

Memories of those loved and lost.

Some moldy picture frame lies behind the sofa

     But they say to let it lie for old time's sake.

Their happy cliches sustain my recuperation,

     This crooked fusion of parts,

     And I will remain in their falsity

Because it is quiet;

     It is safe.