Our voices smash against barren bedroom walls.
Questions, pleas, crash down upon the hallway floor
As we pass each other wordlessly.
The possible in life seems unlikely to us now.
We hear only the faintest, constant, drum beat,
And it metes out our days.
44 words for d’Verse quadrille.
12 thoughts on “Decrescendo”
Nice line: “The possible in life seems unlikely to us now. “
Silence can be more deafening than the drum beating faintly. Unfortunately, sometimes the drum fades out forever.
This is so atmospheric… somehow I feel that either the drumbeats will fade away or explode in an end.
drums are harbingers of many things. you’ve captured the atmosphere of unpleasantness around one very well.
This is gorgeously rendered! I love the atmospheric quality of this poem ❤️
How did I miss this? Oof. You have a talent for burrowing into life’s discords and excavating every ounce of pain and heartbreak–but so subtly and sensitively. This is beautiful. Tough to read, but beautiful.
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