Bleeding Pale

A mixed bag, perhaps.

We poets live under the same sky, see the same stars . . .

The moon that moves the tides also moves our hearts.

One poet, feeling alone . . . she writes . . .

neglected . . . she writes . . . loss . . . she writes . . .

tears unabated . . . she writes . . . bleeding pale . . . she writes . . .

And that other poet, that other heart, who sees the

same stars, feels the same moon as you . . .

He reads . . . lonely no more . . . he reads . . . wanted he feels . . .

he reads . . . loved he is . . . he reads . . . smiling eyes . . .

he reads . . . blushes, he does . . . he reads . . .

Ah, poetic synchronicity cannot be denied . . .

next time he will be the writer, and she, the reader.

~ two hearts . . . same sky . . . one moon ~

Copyright ©

C. M. Miller

Reviews

[Kelly Scheppers]

There aren't enough superlatives to define how I feel about this - or the fact that you're back at writing again!

What perfection. You must tell me how this came to its fruition! I'm in love! ; )