tagNon-Erotic Poetry"The Afters..."

"The Afters..."


Sun seared ground
sharp shards of baked clay
tear the semblance of living
til all that remains
are bleached memories
of what was meant
and dreamed
and hoped
and feared
and lived...

At 17 he was a loner -
the geek dreaming...
of friends,
the first REAL kiss,
actually winning at something
at anything,
at being more than he was,
at the whats of futures
to be known.

At 18 he cut the strings -
the ties to home that never was,
to futures that couldn't be,
to family that didn't UNDERSTAND,
to friends that didn't care,
to unfound love,
to all the shed tears,
to being what he wasn't.

At 21 he found himself -
still the loner
but now by choice.
The hurts of losing
outpace the warmth of having
even for just moments
shared in the living,
tears in the dying,
meaningless laughter
mindless terrors -
all the faced fears.

You don't hear yourself cry,
don't see the inside die,
don't notice your own cold eyes -
just all the others.

Chris Twyford

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