Unfinished Poems

Fully actualized life

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Photo by Dieter K on Unsplash

Unfinished poems collect dust.
In digital drawers — delayed.
My heart. Can I trust?

In time,
I will find the right words —
the perfect rhyme to articulate
the pain and passion that is now latent.

Waiting.

Will the sun dawn one morning
only to watch me sleep and then rise —
ready to comprise lines of truer nature?

Forget the lies, no disguise —
wiser to the times that left me in defeat.

Then, will I — bright and untethered —
leave my mark with words unfettered —
rising to the skies, unlike the tears I cried
and the years I wasted, weakened by my muted mind —

searching for the moral in your words, unkind
and your acts of deceit.
Never knowing they were reflections of you
rather than imperatives for me.

Perhaps.

One day, all the unfinished works
will meet their end — perhaps not, but then again —
the fragments…

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