Who cares about the breakdown of what kind of poem I'm writing, right?
Nothing is as odd
as exchanging looks with men
that you thought you knew.
I
knew you,
my whisper echoed.
Your eyes show their depth,
but it's not proud nor profound.
It's a torn abyss.
What a touching thing
to witness a rare moment
and know you'll forget.
Fictional people,
though formed through thoughts and tales, are
deeply tangible.
(Prompt by me)
Photo by Pete O'Shea. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Writing_Tools_-_paper_pen_laptop.jpg
Nothing is as odd
as exchanging looks with men
that you thought you knew.
I
knew you,
my whisper echoed.
Your eyes show their depth,
but it's not proud nor profound.
It's a torn abyss.
What a touching thing
to witness a rare moment
and know you'll forget.
Fictional people,
though formed through thoughts and tales, are
deeply tangible.
(Prompt by me)
Photo by Pete O'Shea. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Writing_Tools_-_paper_pen_laptop.jpg
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