The Big Mistake

It was a mistake 
To test everything I know.
The fabric I trusted to hold
Tore.
What was left behind 
Were empty rooms which led
To windows that framed women
Naked in their repose 
As if their bodies were idols
To be worshipped 
In temples of long dead religions
Or 
as if they are a still-life in an obscure
Museum
Nowhere near 
Your hometown. 

some became dancers 
sooner or later
unaware of
The stare coming from 
the phantom audience
in a Monday afternoon club.
Their names have become letters 
Floating to the bottom of a sea
With millions of other names.
Its currents will guarantee you will never return.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017




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Date: 8/8/2017 12:26:00 AM
Hi Matthew. Stunning piece of work here. It is so simplistic in its beauty and complex in its process. Deliciously vulnerable and a honest take on oneself. I aspire to be like you. Your poetry is more focused on quality than quantity. This poem should be more exposed on PS. Really great stuff
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Date: 8/1/2017 12:07:00 PM
thank you for the comment.
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Date: 7/28/2017 11:00:00 PM
Oh the past experience always sink down to be stacked in history but surprisingly at time one of them do float upwards! :D Nice write. :) Sunita
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