After midnight, maybe it’s the dark
or the season, or the distance
or just the nothing at stake anymore
like when you’re already soaked through
in a downpour, we can really talk
about what was said and how it felt,
the one thing you didn’t like at first,
the march of the preoccupied three,
the deep in the bone pain when you know
it will be this year, this season,
and the hardest thing is not the fact
of the end, but the knowing
that there will be no going back.
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Such a powerful poem.
Thank you Charles
Well, I would not call this poem comprehensible. All the necessary information is not there on the page. It is a poem that requires insider knowledge, in other words, you had to be there. For that reason, it wouldn’t be one I’d submit in its current form. Just an exercise. But maybe there’s a line or two I will need again.