It hurts, I told You.
But You remained silent,
You poulticed my wound.
That's Your mode of operation,
A silent worker, never
Ostentatious, never pointless.
And the pain ebbs
Along with the glistening teardrops.
YOU ARE READING
From the bottom of my heart
Poetrymy homemade poetry #94 in poetry on 17 Dec 2015, 10am #33 in poetry on 31 Dec 2015, 12.36pm #12 in poetry on 17 Jan 2016, 11.58pm All rights reserved © Cover designed by @dcrktimes
