poetry

The Divorce.

arid clouds cloudy dark

The final chapter of our union
tells of bone deep chagrin—
the dumb utter of
‘I feel statements’
plays itself like a mantra,
useless invocations found
in the crumpled leaflets
from the therapist’s office.

The pointed questions
from our guilty mouths
forces a sober thought through;
we felt the cold walk in
but we never felt the warmth walk out.

The silent stare between us
measures the immeasurable,
a gulf of indifference grows-
it’s time to close dead eyes,
and move on from this grave.

© Nancy Botta, 2019

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14 thoughts on “The Divorce.

  1. The Bliss Smith says:

    Finding this in my inbox first thing this morning – before coffee even – just seems so apt. Beautiful work about an awful subject; I can only hope to one day write about it as well as you have. Peace to you.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Pingback: SoSS #9- 24/08/2019 – Jupiter's Lair

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