“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label written. Show all posts
Showing posts with label written. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 23, 2019
Post
After moving
around
this much
it is fair to suspect
that it takes more than
one year
before we feel a place
is our dwelling.
After loving
two liars
too long
it would be cruel to conclude
that white promises were
purely made,
or that honor does not fade
when exposed.
After giving away
our time
so freely,
it is common to become consumed
by generosity and lacking
surplus or seconds,
starvation is written on the bones
of the donor.
After writing
all of these
words never read,
there is learning
in letting them all go
and watching them
come back together
long after
they have sunk
in, disappearing from sight
and causing a subtle
displacement
After all.
Painting by Mary Cassatt, 'Young woman in a black and green bonnet looking down', c. 1890 in [Public domain].
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