The words are etched in stone,
My mouth is full of tar.
What can I say to you that hasn’t already been said?
Are you lonely?
Do you miss her?
Its like speaking to a spirit, a god
Whose validation I crave more than most.
How do I look from up there, tearing my
Heart out and putting it on the page
Hoping to garner a fraction of your attention.
I wish I could see you more.
I wish you could hear me.
What else is there to do but gaze into the sky and
Wait for you to come back?
Don’t worry- if you ever feel neglected, forgotten
Beyond recognition, I’ll be here.
In my window, I’ll be here.
About the Creator
A Failed Artist, A Disillusioned Poet, An Underpaid Game Show Host
I took my son and niece to Gori, a small town in Georgia where Joseph Stalin was born. They talked me into visiting the Stalin's Museum, the largest in the post-Soviet space. I had resisted going there because I just can't stand the monster and know enough about him, or so I thought.
By Lana V Lynx6 days ago in FYI
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