Mourning (Somebody who is alive)

A dialouge between two versions of myself

I come to say

I've nearly finished mourning

Nothing to mourn anyway

You are dead, breathing

Do not speak, stay out of my sight

On a boulevard, we scattered ourselves

But I have to pick it up each night

I hate the dead leaves

«The Houses are Silent»

And so is the spot

Where we could not see the imminent

As it was obscured by your jabot

I hate that dress

You love to cloy!

Yeah, I missed the bliss

But not this new ploy

Now you feel regret

Now you cry

But you should stop waiting in the sunset

For something that won't come back

Because you made my heart dry.

Reviews

[Kane Hagwood]

Dang, that was powerful stuff right there. I know this feeling all too well. There are a handful of people in my life that, sadly, are completely cut off from me. I'd even go as far as to say they're dead to me. And although I don't really wish death on anyone, it's good to know when to cut ties. Nice poem you wrote.