there’s a battle i hear in the
sound of your voice, the worried
hesitation, the wonder if and
could you even begin to tell me
whether this is right for either
one of us; lackluster words, dull
and unpolished as these spoons
mean to carry the weight of
this inevitable departure from
me to you and you and me that
can no longer be helped after
so many years sleeping beside
you, was it because i snored
too much, hogged most of the
blanket or is it these words
we rarely said that we became
extinct from each other that
the only remains left are
these fossils from our union

-mr gahon 8/4/15


About mr gahon

poet... writer... culinarian... i like to work with food that appeals to the senses, write words that taste even better View all posts by mr gahon

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