In reach, yet so often missed.
In sight, yet so often ignored.
In touch, yet so often confused.
The whisper of a voice across the table,
The ramble of feet across the way.
In reach, yet ungrasped.
In sight, yet unpursued.
In touch, yet unheard.
The pieces of a heart across the table,
The shambles of a mind across the way.
When meeting a soul across the table,
I quiet my own, providing a home.
When meeting a soul across the way,
I seek their eyes, pleading their minds,
“You are loved, you are strong,
You are here. Let’s belong
To this moment, we will never meet again.”
About the Creator
R. M. Forté
Read. Think. Type. Repeat.
I'm a lyrisit by trade, a musician by training, and a coach by career, but here? Here is a door to my world, welcome in. I hope you enjoy your stay.
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More stories from R. M. Forté and writers in Poets and other communities.
Between Us and Tomorrow
It was inconceivable. The moments we had survived, the horrors we had endured; we stood like statues before a braced door…the only possible exit from living hell. Though the key rested in my hand, I couldn’t bring myself to place it. Not a single breath was heard while we stared wide-eyed at the possibility, the future we had fought so ravenously to reach. It was finally in our grasp the choice to leave this place of death where the stains of former dreads still resided on the walls, floors, and in some areas, ceilings. What would greet us?
By R. M. Forté3 years ago in Poets
The Dryads are Calling
They say the forest by Phoenix River sings. Perhaps it is just the wind howling through the leaves, or a particular birdsong. But Percy Fisher knows better; he knows what lies in those woods, and he knows that the forest sings of his demise.
By Leigh Hooperabout 23 hours ago in Fiction
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