Emily and Me

In the end, we seem too much alike,
Two cripples holed up in their homes,
In love with people who aren't there,
Our grief spelled out in cryptic poems
No one's apt to find and read. She
Tried to rhyme and often failed. I
Don't. I think my music's better.
Still, in doleful isolation, we're almost
The same.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 95 times
Written on 2016-04-22 at 01:35

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