Another beaten, broken heart;
bruised, battered, softened, stultified.
You look in my tired, troubled, temperate eyes
& say you see my seasoned smile so hide
somewhere & somewhat deep down dark inside.
Soul succinctly set beside soul.
Your soft smile & sweet, sure insistence in
seeking my gaze.
Try to tempt me.
Timing never was right for us baby.
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Author:
rebmasters (
Offline) - Published: May 12th, 2021 03:54
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 37
- Users favorite of this poem: A Boy With Roses
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Comments1
there is an intimate quality, in the relationships you depict
and however sad their trajectory, we readers can't help
but relate and empathise with the unvarnished veracity
of your poignant words
Ah thank you. Lacking talent - truth is all I have!
without Talent, truth can never be conveyed or worded relatable
and 'talent' is a poor measure of quality or worth, in most things
just look at how many 'talented' are standing at the unemployment line
rather, I suggest - hard earned 'skill', accumulated while working diligently
at something you enjoy: is fundamentally more admirable..
(in my rather opinionated yet confusingly, humble: opinion) lol
You're right as always & talent rather a useless word. The writer's paradox - trying to translate thoughts/emotions to words is an impossible task. And yet we strive anyway, as it seems important. Words are poor tools...but for someone to sense there is truth or beauty or love behind them makes it seem worthwhile
Amen!
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