A kind of Independence, Certainly not Celebrated

A kind of Independence, Certainly not Celebrated

 

 

 

this poem has no title

no words,

no reason to exist

other than to express what i don't know how to express

and to touch the hearts of hearts that are too sensitive to the touch

there is no ending

because i ended it before i began it

there is no you in it

because you left me before i met you

the theme is just a bungled scheme

 

and my dream of poetic notoriety

plunged like riffraff trying to fit between the lines of high society

and i was there to laugh at me

because you weren't there to cry

 

and this poem has no reason to exist

no words

no title

 

no concept of how much i hurt

when i can't put into words

what i can't put into words

 

i just felt a teardrop

was that from you?

are you really there?

 

or did it fall out of the poem

i almost, but didn't quite write.

 

 

 

 

erin-cilberto

7/4/13 

Reviews

[....................]

a great description of something that almost didn't happen... i guess all that's left is for one to almost but not quite read the nearly unwritten verses...there are times when we prevent ourselves from pursuing love, which you have almost done here... and sometimes, that's all we can do,.. love this uniquely written piece, my friend

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind review, FT.

j.

[Crispy]

Wow man, you're reaching some new and fantastic places~! Between this and your two recents on writers block, Im feeling heavy heaves of expansion--- Self awareness leaking eyeballs that peer back between flung out lines of pure personality. Very cool~

I appreciate the chance to see what a veteran writer can pull out to keep the fruit ever fresh and juicy. You're an inspiration J.

-C

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind words, Crispy.

j.

[~]

Muffled tears, abandoned heart before it started to beat for two.. something that needs not be written to be felt.
this one burns..

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your words, moonskittles

j.