Blankness
I fared under the caricature
Of desolate bane this eve –
Walking with shiver in pocket
Toward the glassiness of now –
As I reached the tip of today
Drenched I was, in disgust –
Saturated with concocted sweat
I gripped tirelessly, the shiver –
Poured the shock of yesterday
Through forgotten cloud –
As I quivered under the dry
Of pouring dry rains –
My eyes swelled silently shut
From the lack of tears this eve –
My shiver, it completely melted
From the glassiness of now –
Copyright © Deborah Simpson | Year Posted 2008
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