where did it all go, the laughter, the delirious, dizzying high of perfection? Or was it? Maybe it just seemed like it to me. Maybe my perfection was your torture. We both know that your perfection was most certainly my torture.
What if I reject it? All of it. What if I say, “Fuck the world”? What if I do fuck the world? It’s certainly had a turn or two on me, on my back, from behind. Maybe it’s my turn.
What if I reject you? Never thought that could happen, did you? What if I’m not even there to reject you? What if my absence becomes a presence for you?
I’ll never know.
I’ve moved on.
About the Creator
Harper Lewis
I'm a weirdo nerd who’s extremely subversive. I like rocks, incense, and all kinds of witchy stuff. Intrusive rhyme bothers me.
I’m known as Dena Brown to the revenuers and pollsters.
MA English literature, College of Charleston
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Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
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More stories from Harper Lewis and writers in Poets and other communities.
Violence Begets
"Any last words, cowboy?" "None you'd understand, sodbuster." "Funny. That's Marshall Sodbuster to you. But I meant some last nugget that would help us in the adjudication of the myriad offenses counted against you and your gang. I wasn't asking for penitence."
By Adam Diehl4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
That line about absence becoming a presence is haunting. It lingers well after the poem ends.
💖Harper, I kid you not, this gave me goosebumps! The length is absolutely perfect, and the way you used Anaphora with those 'What if' questions created such a powerful, meditative drive.
Things d change, close friends are sometimes lost through the influence of others, or they just change