Sad Labels:
catharsis
,
clarity
,
dark poetry
,
distance
,
sad poems
,
sad poetry
alcoholicpoet.com |
miles she says are the least of the distance between us.
no fortunate corners nor humble back doors. to offer an escape.
time limps on fractured bones. using us as its crutches.
louder still becomes the silence. ragged stitches sewn into crumbling costumes.
she used to wear the distance in all its arrogant resolve.
now all those paths are grey. packed up neatly and left to sour.
she fiddles with the math. all the tender humilities that flesh manipulates.
she used to tease the thieves. letting them think they could take what was hers.
Filed under: December 2024 Sad Poetry
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