Prognosis
perhaps i will miss you
but i know
it will only be for a certain
while
then temporarily there will
be uncertainty
of what i can do in your absence
time, time, more time
at a snail pace of sorrow and then
in between there is this emptiness
that starts to expand
like a cold air under the bed
moving towards the window
scattering to the
sky
and then
i look back and see myself
how i have become so
wasted
and then
one gets fed up with missing
one get tired
of loneliness
things come before you and
some sighs keep repeating themselves
like the monotonous sounds of the weeping sea
and then
nothing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
