As I walk through your cherished gardens,
I stumble and break one of your primrose pots.
You cry and curse me as I mumble apologies.
I'm fearful. Your temper is so. You are more malign
When quiet than when shrieking, and now
You're deathly still. You carry an iron rod coated
With rust. It decays, as they say, from the tears
Of your foe. I keep my voice down lest I anger you.
Getting meself caught in your rage is like being
In the eye of a storm. Goddamn whoever offends
You. They bring forth a calamity. Skies scream as
You wail. Your agony and wrath are causes for concern.
I wonder wherefore the once comely woman has
Vanished. I find no vestige of her in you. But perhaps
When I broke your primrose, I might have broken
Your heart too, thus rendering you heartless. What
Can I say? It was a mishap; one I sincerely regret.
YOU ARE READING
𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝐀 𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧│✔
Poetry❝In the death of me, I found solace. ❞ What readers say: "Starkly honest, seeing the naked soul of your own, relishing the sorrows of being alive." "A mystic poet is born!" "Keep it up. Keep being alive. Keep writing." Poetry of the past of me. Lyr...
