Tuesday, May 23, 2017

Dorin Popa writes

when your woman deserts you
wherever she might go

you think that you stay hidden
for good

among her belongings
my soul, straighten your knees,
stop the fall,
the decay
stop the sand,
the water

wherever she might go
you no longer matter
not a whit
wherever she might go
you’re not left
your birth was
an aberration
an imitation
a negation
wherever she might go,
there’s no place for you to go

 Image result for deserted paintings
The path that the soul takes -- Herbert Baglione

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