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Love Looked at Me and Laughed and other poems - 16. form to my wont
.
Poem No. 41
Poem:
In lovely sorrow I sink again,
to the depths of a familiar deep,
as fingers in aging glove descend,
to borrow themselves a state complete.
Around my decline the white shirts land,
in lines as pure as bleach can render,
while I ask if any understand,
the soundless graft of my encover.
Here where I stand is murky and loud,
with other laughter swirling the air,
as we the ever-damned of the crowd,
must seek our diversion into a pair.
For he who plummets to this depth of mine,
Sorrow save him from the joy he’ll find.
Postlude:
Oh, to have heart and voice the same;
Skill enough to bleed talent un-lame.
Poem No. 42
To view a sorrow as a fact,
is a precarious point to make;
It negates room to enact
a retreat from its mistake.
Poem No. 43
I turn the pages
and admire the loves long dead.
I put on their eyes to admire
the loves they longed.
And with every word
I hear them speak of you,
and give form to my wont
of expression.
Poem No. 44
I’m sorry I cannot
tame it
And ever here
retain it
_
- 4
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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