The hour is nigh
the silence after your leaving
has seeped into my bones
and now, I am fading.
None is waiting in the vestibule,
the silence has now aged
so much so that it has perfumed.
This is not godless penury,
I am past that.
Nothing but a drawn out valediction
fashioned with masochistic zeal
by my anima to whom,
you shall remain, stand-alone.
No comments:
Post a Comment