On Poetry…


Our words have become ghosts.

Invisible. Unspoken.

Into thin air they float

Conversation almost nonexistent

Fuck dialogue! This is my monologue.

A one-woman showcase, where I role play

Who I could have been and who I should be

Just like the moon and sun, our positions have shifted

Just like the tide, our feelings have drifted

Only time can tell if we’ll cross paths again

But I think it’s rather obvious

We can’t be friends…

—S to the…

I wrote this just because…

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