On the Edge

 

Just on the edge, right over there, it lurks-

Like a toothache. Almost forgotten until

You brush against it. Then it gnaws and the hurt

Builds inside, a tidal wave that fills.

 

Touch lightly, it may still sleep, but you

Will awaken to it. The memory

Stalks you as much as reality. It pursues,

And when it catches it exacts a hefty fee.

 

Just over there, it lives, on the other side

of every thought, this beast that grief supplied.

 

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed