Mismatched. Discarded. Forgotten.
The aftermath of attachment
A pair made for each other, one
always finding its way from the other.
A pair made for each other , yet
the other never returns.
A pair made with each other
But where's the first when the second needs it most?
Seconds, minutes, hours pass
its search- relentless
Hours, days and weeks go by,
The emptiness only grows.
Discarded.
One's no use without the other.
Why have one, if the other doesn't bother?
Forgotten.
Forgotten are the memories, the smiles and the laughter.
Maybe the second will forget too.
Tired of waiting for a knock at the door.
Tired of wandering down empty halls,
to not see the other.
A pair made for each other, but never with each other,
mismatched, discarded and forgotten.
About the Creator
Nawrah
I definitely think too much and too fast. Writing helps me slow down and unravel my thoughts. I think many people could relate.
Smart phones, Humans and Aliens.
WARNING. I will be tapping into one of your favorite creative tensions: The absurdity of humans worshipping their glowing rectangles as if they were tiny oracles. There’s something deliciously poetic about that contradiction, and it lends itself beautifully to an instructive proviso.
By Novel Allen7 days ago in Poets
When Big Bands Played on every station 📻
When big bands ruled the world, with live broadcast each night. A slow world. A sentimental world. A world that believed in God. In LOVE. A world after the war that appreciated the small things, the community and most importantly family above all else. What a beautiful world that was of values. If we could only add progression to old school morality then maybe one would have less suffering. A book I read often from the 1950 states “if suffering made the world wise, a wise world it would be” after the world wars what a wise world we were becoming. If progression could meet slowness, like the Italian say “the art of doing nothing” what a peaceful world we would have. Big Bands brought in peace in a time the world didn’t know the end, each night the news goes off, did a love one die? Is your family now just a Jayne or Joe doe somewhere out there? Well forget your troubles we are all in this together- here is Glenn Miller and his Big Bands singing it’s a blue world, the moonlight serenade begins for a hour where you forget your troubles and melt in with the big band. Once the war was over those late night broadcasts became coming home dances. For a moment to me that was a beautiful world. Radio Days. Glenn miller and his orchestra playing live lifting spirits. A beautiful world that must had been for that moment. To be alive and to be appreciative of every second God Has given you.
By La Regina💗Kallie Teresa❤️5 days ago in Poets
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