The Unbecoming
Why the silence, why the chill
Why the gritty gap between
Have these words cut I would have pleaded
But no such instance of hearts acquainted
Nor bitter intermittent of sweet nothing smiles
The door swings open with unbecoming goodbye
Bisporadic spheres my familiar world passes by
And still I wonder
Why the cold, why the silence
If that is it
If that is how things are made (or manifested) to be
Perfectly - then so be it
I’ll move on
No worries, no loss
Just another prophesised tragedy
We’ll walk our different paths
Estranged it may be, but that is the cost
Pricked; you bleed...
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