a bad turn of cards
killing time
sitting here in my room
where nothing, is
more important than:
(turning over a red eight)
killing time
thinking of you
longing to be with you
silent; lonely
(the black nine stares back)
there is no killing time
this lonely, lonely time
is only killing me:
my mind demands to be;
left alone
(the game ends
the red eight is buried;
separated
from the black nine)
just as i am from you
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.