The room were once
He hung his coat
Now seems cold
The air is old.
A prisoner of her silence.
Coffee table and a glass
A poster she tucked away
So full of lies
Her fearful sighs
A prisoner of her silence.
The bed and mirror
Reflect regrets
Her smile that loved
Now sublets
A prisoner of her silence.
In that memory
A bitter taste
The Sixties girl
Left to wait
A prisoner of her own ego.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: August 11th, 2023 02:11
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 4
Offline)
Comments3
The 60's was a decade before I was born, I see a harsh women with a beehive in this poem, much enjoyed this even though she was unpleasant, ego is one of the ugliest traits anyone can have. 💖
someone i knew older than me but i was intrigued how her ego destroyed everything she wanted
Ego always does 💖
…. Now sublets. That says a bunch of tealstive material thought in just two words. Freaking great harmony if thought. Nice write good read
As always many thanks
impressive well done
thanks again
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