I'm finishing the story,
How can it be true?
I'm nearing the end;
There is no future to see.
It doesn't feel real
But it is—it's all going to be over.
Months it's been since this world's been right,
Hours it's been since I've seen light.
I don't want to leave,
Not yet, it's too soon
But yet, the ending has come.
I don't know what's real.
Another year is over, another year is done,
I’m still standing where you left me, stranded,
All alone in a world without you, my sun,
The ring’s still on my finger, but I’m left empty handed.
I’ve always wondered
What it’s like to be myself
Openly and honest
And not hiding behind bookshelves
Waiting for someone to see
And let me into their heart.
A guy is knocking
My neighbor is doing Duolingo across the street,
He’s in his sixties learning a new language
And I’m just eating leftovers, watching him,
Wondering if he’s practicing French for his husband.
Comments
This is a response poem to a poem I wrote almost a year ago, which was in the 2024 Anthology.
love this!! also totally get how you feel--i'm nearing the end of the first draft of my book and it'll be so hard to leave all the characters/their story...
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