POETRY

Where We Lie

A poem

created by Midjourney

I hear the whispering
from their chitter-chatter mouths
about things that still matter
even to the dead.

I wonder why myself
without needing to hear
what they are saying
why you didn’t come
either time
when I needed you the most.

Now is just a long aftermath
where the work doesn’t need
to be shown
because it doesn’t really matter
and it’s just sad to look at.

Ten years now
still only betrothed —
another why which occurs
in their ghost-speak —
yet one that weighs heavy
as well on my mind.

Touch or more
like what we had before;
is growing older a resignation?

Do I sign the line
and wait in line
even though I hate waiting?
Here I die
in this bed of mine
where you said we are boring
because all we do is come here
to watch a show about people
more interesting than us.