#912234 added August 20, 2024 at 11:50pm Restrictions: None
Until It Goes Down
Until It Goes Down
I look at the bottom of a drained mug,
ask it fill me again.
Idle spoon,
nothing to stir.
Without a word
we stare out the window:
same landscape,
same memories.
Oil-topped table
props weary limbs
that toil at nothing.
A brain, still searching for something
inside its unforgiving vessel,
looks again.
Still mocking...
or just myself?
Dusty floor smooth beneath
two stiff feet.
Veins unharmoniously pang;
the clot pedestals
will not send us
to the life-giving machine.
Had enough.
A silent, gray frown.
At least I'm served by the sun
until it goes down.
28 lines, free verse
6.2.2017
There's a world at my doorstep. Make it go away. It's late.
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