“Yeah” is a word that kills me at this stage,
Leaving your lips with thoughtless apathy—
Turned away like an old forgotten page—
Like crumpled paper from a distant age.
Tossed into the wind without empathy,
“Yeah” is a word that kills me at this stage.
This picture becomes something I must gauge
As if I’m gifted with telepathy.
Turned away like an old forgotten page,
Your word dismisses and leaves me backstage,
And produces in me antipathy.
“Yeah” is a word that kills me at this stage—
A cold murder that I cannot assuage—
You hit me and run without sympathy.
Turned away like an old forgotten page,
Like clouds hiding the sunrise this dark age—
Like hearts stricken numb with neuropathy.
“Yeah” is a word that kills me at this stage—
Turned away like an old forgotten page.
© 2024 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
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Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: September 30th, 2024 07:05
- Comment from author about the poem: A villanelle in iambic tetrameter. This poem is a response to the Medium publication Sparkle City Magic's Mystical Adventure ~ Week #2 (September 29-October 5) prompts. The prompts used are: Paper, Love, Picture, and Sunrise.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 9
- Users favorite of this poem: Lei
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Comments2
Excellent
Thank you! Glad you liked it!
You're welcome
I dunno about them iambic things, not being into poetry styles much! I'm sure it's a good write, iambic thingy or not! lol.
LOL! Thank you for reading and I am glad you liked it, which, regardless how much form you do or don't know, is all that matters, imho! 😉 Woohoo!
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