We used to spill out
On to the Tarmac,
Curtains twitched
As our words spat out
And onto the pavement
Where I once sat, dreaming
Hoping,
Really,
For a happy life,
A quiet life, where curtains
Didn't twitch, and neighbours
Didn't laugh behind window pains,
With their 'here we go again's
And their ideallic lifestyles
Without all the pain
That came with the choices
That you made
The neighbours saw us
For Christ sake.
g.c.g
BẠN ĐANG ĐỌC
The blossom of a poet
Thơ CaWords fall softly like the petals from a blossom tree, drifting slowly onto the paper, creating poetry like the spring, beautiful and light, but just like the seasons, the poetry changes, the autumn comes and the words become heavy, falling quickly...
