You Have, One, New Message

Thirteen steps to the last

glory days of gone,

bones and harrowed

past the entryway; death

is escaping the narrowed walls

and refuse is littered in

the shapes of furniture,

smiling eyes and face to match

if there was ever anything more

to the ring of a phone

turns the blink of an eye

to a lifetime of ignominy,

mayhem, and insecurities

left the wanting, groping need

Of something more

 

©Ramon Sturdivant

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s