A half confession,
Poor and incomplete,
As you stand there
A deer in headlights,
One foot out the door.
I tried... I'm tired,
So like all of the
Prettiest, little dreams,
Rotting there
In infertile earth,
I bury my heart.
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Author:
Kora (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 29th, 2026 01:40
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
- Users favorite of this poem: Demar Desu
Offline)
Comments2
This poem holds many possibilities in its meaning. The door has been left open for the reader to step through. Well done
Thank you Soren ♥️
You are most welcome Kora
Confusion, Kora. A wee bit of a loss here; you may have hastened my dementia along - but out of the discombobulation one thing is clear: disinter your heart now, dust it down and allow me to sit upon it to keep warm until you get the rest of your life sorted....
An intricate little puzzle.
You can sit upon my heart to keep it warm anytime ♥️
I'm glad it seemed puzzling, that was my intention.
I'm not very fond of puzzles, actually - particularly poetic puzzles. However, it seems I must suffer...
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