poems written on the fly

this is what it sounds like when you’re not here

In art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, writing on 3 May 2010 at 12:03 pm

all we have
are words

and I can’t find
any that fit

or don’t sound
self-serving

what’s left
is silence

maddening
deafening
unbearable
silence

(D. James)

  1. Oh, how I hate those moments when words fail me and I stare across at someone wonder if I should just leave the room for an hour or two…well express in these lines.

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