He whispered,
Hello
But offered no hand.
I was oddly hurt by it.
Not that he was rude.
On the contrary...
He was most kind.
Maybe he didn't
feel it.
A stabbing in my heart that
made my whole being sob.
And why should he?
Only weak things need others to lean on.
He was strong
enough to stand alone.
Without anyone.
Without me.
It was the onset of a
pattern.
One he would never break.
He was polite, of course,
and wound never touch me.
It would too soon become my
Empty Never.
YOU ARE READING
The Land of Midian: A Poetry Collection
PoetryRandom bits of poetry from various stages of my life. Some are from my high school days. Others are narrative poetry that tell a story. All of them are pieces of my life that followed me through to where I am today.
