A Thousand Poems

every night

a thousand poems die curled up in my head

the words rise up in last breaths

and lost hopes

fall down like wet leaves heavy with

rains out of season, unexpected,

like sudden pauses in conversations over the phone

crackling with the static of longing and despair

did i miss something you said?

no, let it be, and let me carry on in my pretending

that this silence is more than silence

more a lullaby than a lament.





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