27/9/16 Two poems about when something is gone but not. An unsung aria/Hollow
An unsung aria
The twist in the tail.
The left hook from out of darkness.
The Hofmeister kink.
You know it ain't over
'til the fat lady sings.
Well there she is,
sitting on her ample arse,
desperately trying to catch her breath.
She never was much of a runner,
and boy, can that wind of hers take flight..!
There is a place here inside me,
where you used to be.
It was warm and snug.
You used to curl up inside it
with your favourite stories of mine
and linger for hours.
You'd form a ball,
so small were you
that I barely noticed you there.
You took so little space,
it was as if you were part of me.
you are gone.
It's kinda cold