Unspoken


On the blank page of our kingsize bed
we lie together, waiting for words,
like open speech marks.

Alone, I am an apostrophe;
a sign of something missing,
something taken away.

5 comments:

Chris said...

I like this poem! The bed as a page...and vice versa...

and then that something missing... Yes, I really do like this little poem...

Chris

Morris said...

excellent poem! Will you be my special lesbian friend?

Mr. Morris
Ask Morris

epiac1216 said...

Simple words, deep meaning. I also don't like being alone.

Anonymous said...

Only one thing worse than a dull blog (which this is), pretentious "poetry"!

The Gripes of Wrath said...

Aww, cheers "Anonymous" thanks for the constructive comment -I'd love to reciprocate, but I can't, seeing as you are cloaked in anonymity. Catch you around, I guess...