quiet rapture before he spoke
not thinking, the words spill out
too late to reconsider
the mess you have made
no mopping it up now
she listens,
not hearing the anger
but the very frustrations
that brought them here
sitting on this porch
together
but each is alone
although they sit side by side
not touching, not feeling
no reply from her
unusual at best
but there's nothing left to say
Poetry by M.J.B. is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License
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