Charles Edward York

Number Nothing

 

 

Lower than the altitude of dirt

The face love once held

Wears a tag of emptiness

Special turned upside down

Equal to number nothing.

 

A puppy whose only wrong

Was growing up too fast

Gets left out in the cold rain

Where kindness kept company

Instead of abandoning.

 

You leave my often and sure

With words bereft of meaning

And desolate of assurance

For youth and impulse

Equal to number nothing.

 

Your betrayal is a knife behind

The back you once stood by

I was baby instead of a name

Written beside yours in light

Now worthless and alone.

 

Copyright © 2021 Charles Edward York

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