Dusk Again

I write this for someone who wouldn’t read it.
I guess that’s all I’ve been doing.
There is a primordial need for expression,
solar flares ebb and flow in Eternity.
I keep to myself, I tend to fall upon stone ears.

Hope, at this point, is a corpse.
All I see is Sunset, now.

Every person I interact with, every notification I get;
I know it doesn’t matter to them.
I can go with the motions like an empty raft.
Explaining myself seems aptly daft, daftly apt.

Every person I interact with, every notification I get;
Glasses houses wearing blouses.
The entire history and inheritance is there, so
there’s better for everyone out there, than me.

Broken statue at the fork in the road,
every evening’s death a line for Ode.
No one stays.
Not even when they
stick around.

I can’t be upset, I should be used to it.
I am, yet
I can’t tell anyone.
How much it’s always hurt,
like
a Sun in my heart.

I hope this burning light helps someone,
anyone.

Published by mikelenczycki

Not Anybody.

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