by Douglas Slayton
every face is blank in disinterest,
the reaction lost and is never returned
and doubts join in simply but will never rest.
as dark of night settles, any ease stands burnt.
spinning a thread around a taught finger,
effortlessly as the days end and the nerves fray.
i am a room left empty, where the thoughts linger
on small looks too large to leave or let lay.the reaction lost and is never returned
and doubts join in simply but will never rest.
as dark of night settles, any ease stands burnt.
spinning a thread around a taught finger,
effortlessly as the days end and the nerves fray.
i am a room left empty, where the thoughts linger
time idly warped the space within the needle's eye
so small it can't see the entirety of the forest.
an inquiry is met with the same and a sigh,
left unsaid could rot devouring any rest.
i know that i am wrong and i am sorry,
but these thoughts of you upset are haunting me.
Douglas Slayton is Professor Editor-in-Chief of Uncanny Valley Magazine.
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