Squandered.

trying to write a dark scribble for today

Squandered.

On squandered thoughts of endearment

that lies buried somewhere;

one ponders on lost and found,

the no reward on retrieval lies low,

lost in the trenches of love,

ebb and flow discarded,

presumed dead from drowning

in the tears of squalor.

While romancing the stones

lies low in the gutter

solitude embraces

a love gone once more.