It's nice to be back in the land of bitterness and anger. It's like coming home.
Across the road to indicate that one is
Done, but I am close, and I will place
Your memory inside the box which
Isn't opened, your name, nothing
Stuck to it, afloat among a sea of names,
All bleached and wholly meaningless,
The loves which were, but are not now,
And I approach the unseen end, this
Box the thing I'll cast off first, as I head
Into nonexistence. You, in your youth,
Will not even have a box to hold my
Name. I'm sure you won't remember
Me, and I don't mind. I will be gone,
If you, one night, wake up and wonder
Whether what I offered you would have
Lasted long enough to help you to
The line.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 74 times
Written on 2015-10-07 at 03:30
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Good Luck
No line is drawn. No tape is stretchedAcross the road to indicate that one is
Done, but I am close, and I will place
Your memory inside the box which
Isn't opened, your name, nothing
Stuck to it, afloat among a sea of names,
All bleached and wholly meaningless,
The loves which were, but are not now,
And I approach the unseen end, this
Box the thing I'll cast off first, as I head
Into nonexistence. You, in your youth,
Will not even have a box to hold my
Name. I'm sure you won't remember
Me, and I don't mind. I will be gone,
If you, one night, wake up and wonder
Whether what I offered you would have
Lasted long enough to help you to
The line.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 74 times
Written on 2015-10-07 at 03:30
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text| Texts |
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