NO

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


NO

No haiku or smooth sonnet

can house the idea of “you” and “me”.

My brain, this pen, can’t write the words

so delicately.

These blank stanzas sing of true betrayal,

of memories long scarred, shredded, smeared.

No pantoum or limerick

shall know of That pain.

Of hands tied behind backs.

Of “no’s” left ignored.

Of a foggy haze no syllables can fill. 


Submitted: June 12, 2021

© Copyright 2021 CasualDreamer. All rights reserved.

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