(Depression)


The Blooming Geranium

The blooming geranium of spring, with their intense purples and whites, have died in the summer heat. Left are brown leafs against the dried up soil. Everything deteriorating.

A body, dense, sinking into the black fabric of a sofa. Withered. Damp. Pearls of sweat dried up into the linen cover. The air, intensely humid, intrusive.

Blinds shut. The sun forcing illumination. Stopped in the middle of an effort.

The sound of illumination; deafening, blinding. There is no effort here. Nothing left. Just the dull sound of quietness. Silence.




Poetry by kristallkross
Read 577 times
Written on 2011-07-01 at 19:31

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Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
Damp jewel of a poem. Talented depiction of a time and place that is difficult to describe.
2013-01-24