Nobody deserved to lose him
and, in fact, he felt endless
with rustic hands and bumblebee eyes.
His talents were convenient though and
he let others have their way with them;
satisfied with static smiles and depreciating gratitude.
Many were close to him
but Anguish was among them.
He didn't have many smiles to offer
anyone or anything he 'left behind'
but all of those other eyes were
thankful that his features would rearrange themselves
to suit their tastes
It was then, when he had been absent,
that they assumed he was vain.
He preferred it that way;
so 'goodbye'
knew how to behave and
could have almost respected him for it.
YOU ARE READING
Slow Burn: A Poetry Collection
PoetryThis collection examines things like slow descents, passion and things that fizzle out quickly.