And I knew with something like insight that I had felt it all just the same.

In fine form or foul
I had loved him
and today across this street that swallowed
the quiet moments that followed
he stood in the greasy light of evening,
most likely borrowed.

His waiting agitation could be heard cursing
loudly from the knotting ropes that tied
his heart to his bowel
And through his blinkered view
he happened upon me,
stopping, still as a weathered statue
that bore a look of painful salute
and whispered of...bad timing.
Then snapping-to in the sudden
rush of his ropes release
I lost him,
crushed by the smile
destined only
for his approaching dealer.

Reviews

[emmajoygreen]

That, Victoria, is very special and superbly laid poetry. Has truth and guts and a lure that reaches a crescendo at its end. Slowly.. slowly.. a tragedy written with beautiful care.

[Matthew Kult]

Desperately fading

Great Read

Matthew

[victoria]

Thank you very much

[Matthew Kult]

You are welcome

Matthew

[Paul Bell]

Sadly the curse that's still giving.
Lost to the dealer.
Time may change this.
Time may not.
Hard hitting. Well done.

[victoria]

Thank you very much

[Steven]

I love how your write made me fall down each line, injuring myself along the way. Impacted! Your connections and insights left that taste in my mouth after a good caramel.

I’d only lose the ellipse. It’s like someone tapping me on the shoulder while looking at art.

[victoria]

Hello...Thank you

[FJ Davis]

Painfully perceptive; beautifully written.
Hard-hitting stuff!

[victoria]

Thank you Frank