It Is OverMature

The relationship has ended, and emptiness has overwhelmed the lovelorn fool. What happens next? Does the fool live in the past or learn to love again?

It is over.  

Depart now. Unclothe.

Go make your bed

with the empty souls

of mortal ghosts

who traipse restlessly

through broken homes 

alone, alone, alone,

slipping quickly past mirrors

as shattered as your own.

 It is over.  

The End

34 comments about this poem Feed