My life is like my poetry
Written out on napkins at dark tables
The ink marring the paper and melting fibers
Blotted and worn through
My life passes like thin smoke
Curled up like reaching hands from candlesticks
The vapor of it leaving traces on the walls
Wispy and lingering on still air
My life is told like a ghost story
Passed down pieces of people long gone
The story made myth through its tellers
Haunted and told o'er again
My life is felt like chips in stone statues
Moony marble marked by time and friend and foe
The texture rough to the passing palms
Pocked and weathered down
My life is seen as if a hazy evening
Sun second guessing if it will set at all
Or remain forever on the cusp of horizon
But dark Night comes yet still to steal the light away
YOU ARE READING
Poetics and Musings
PoetryJust a place to keep some original poetry. Feel free to leave feedback, I always am looking for it
