A Mute's Graveyard Of Written Silence

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  • to wilt

    I whispered,
    “please don’t leave me,”
    and she stared at me.
    Thoughts crashing
    Over memories.
    Restless.
    I shouted,
    “I beg your forgiveness,”
    then, she started weeping.
    Present defying
    old yesterdays.
    Helpless.
    I waited for dusk
    to rectify dawn.
    But tonight,
    every flower
    will tarnish their own scents.

    Tagged: poetry a story of wilt

    Posted on October 7, 2011

    Source: writtensilence

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