melancholic piano,
saturated over,
dry & break into
plasticized sympathy.
mournful whispers,
slice them through
with thick-cut
laughter
(misplacedmisspokencry),
weep & wonder:
how much is too much?
where is the breaking
point, where does it
crack?
how much of reality
aligns with honeyed
"honesty?"
rose petals crust, fall;
bones shift, crack;
eyes blink, close.
smile.
it may be the last.
- theodore (06.16.22)
YOU ARE READING
shoebox | a poetry collection
Poetry" 𝑖'𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒆𝒃𝒐𝒙 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝒃𝒆𝒅. . . " - a collection of poems written by yours truly - " . . . 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝒅𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 . "
