One waits in the hallway,
coat already half‑on,
the air too tight
to stand in any longer.
The other moves
through the lounge
with a kind of reckless grace,
turning up the music,
wanting the walls to feel it.
Between them,
the floor holds steady,
bearing both the urge
to step out and the urge
to set the whole place alight,
as if this room were built
for exactly this split.
.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 24th, 2026 06:10
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 31
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
- In collections: 2026.
Offline)
Comments4
Dualities in everything. Here the dissonance can be heard even in the music. We all are made up of such. Lovely write Cryptic
Thank you, Soren. Most appreciated 🕊️🙏🏻
Most welcome Cryptic
My friend, this carries a quiet but intense divide…one pulling away, one pushing deeper in. “The floor holds steady” and that sense of the room being built for this moment really bring it together. It’s tension held, not resolved, and that’s what makes it land. Beautifully done. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Kind of reminds me of those school halls, they remain too even if different things and emotions pass through them everyday. Perhaps even to the point that they are a staple as disused or abandoned sets in horror flicks🕊️🙏🏻
Just about feel the Tension.
Like it.
Yup, turn tension to poems and move forward. Thanks, Kevin🕊️🙏🏻
Such differences are always with us Rik but they can come together in time and life will be fine.
Andy
Together is the greatest, thanks, Andy🕊️🙏🏻
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