With My Apologies

Your grief
Is a dead horse
A tired inside joke 
Your best,whitest bone china 
Your favourite parlor trick
A standby for your leaden heart

Your grief
Shimmers sometimes
Like frost in winter
And condensed,icy breath on windows
On which you etch out
Your directory of hurt
The detritus of your desire
And your dictionary of words
That have lost their meaning
Where will you find them now?

Your grief
Is like a ripple
Made by a skipping stone
On placid,silent water
I sit
And wait for it to touch
My outstretched fingers
But like so many others 
Sitting on the banks ( does this comfort you?)
I sit too far away.

What would you say
If i told you that
Your grief
And my apathy
Are kindred spirits ?


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 )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ 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 )


Connecting to %s