Micro PoetryPoetry


A time yet an odd number
That reminds me of how you
Walk out the door
Without looking back. You left in the rain
Leaving some questions unanswered.
You were so careless. And because of your
Malignant anger. You drove off
The cliff and what happened?
You were gone. Like a candle
Light being blown off by the breeze.
Like ashes pouring out the jar
And fading away.
I look at the time every night and I curse
The day you died. Here I am, blaming myself.
I wish I’d listen to you and not put up the fight.
I wish.

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