Latest Forum Posts:

Categories

The click atrack
By
Time

The click atrack

Tags: just, thoughts

In my lazy left hand, I grip the dregs of mercy. 

I can not see her. 

I can not call or write her. 

Oh god, she does not even know the sound of my quivering voice. 

Yet I have spoken her name twenty times a day for five years.

Who among you knows how truly silent the written word can be?  

Who hears those prayers, when it is only a name spoken in reverence. 

Spoken to the empty... 

In my weary right, I hold a hidden rhythm.

 Something that transcends this simple curse. 

... 

I almost stopped writing for my words have become a stolen currency. 

Some scums ritual for his feeble "game" when the whiskey and cocaine won't peel her pants down. 

Something only a "good girl" would like or understand. 

But then glory has no shine if it is your bloody feet. 

I never knew some would dare to weaponize poetry itself. 

I foolishly assumed a poem could only damage the poet. 

Still, I click to the beat of some forbidden hymn. 

For my perfect love, if you hear one verse,  I will waste two. 

Never leave your work unsigned. 

Even if it is a bloody scrawl. 

~mliarrr

 

 

 

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than storiesspace.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

To link to this poem from your site - please use the following code:

<a href="https://www.storiesspace.com/stories/poetry/the-click-atrack.aspx">The click atrack</a>

Comments (0)

Tell us why

Please tell us why you think this story should be removed.

Reason