The Last Time I SpokeA Poem by Jashua F.The Last Time I Spoke I could see my breath. I could feel the heat. I could touch the viscosity of the air. So I cut it with my soliloquy. Always a soliloquy. I felt the breeze of turmoil on my unshaven face. I felt the wrench turning and sickening. I feel it now. Like a tornadic fell with no swooping end. I reeled in chiaroscuro behavior. I froze in a gaping shock of dawning; Of knowledge. But it is now, since The last time I spoke, That I have taken the time to know you. To understand you. If I had known it would be The last time I spoke, I would have taken this time long ago. More time. Time to memorize your face. To take an eidetic picture of each perfect Turn and crevice and point. Yet there I sit, lonely, but the furthest thing from alone, Looking down at my broken aglet. From then on I realized that I want Nothing more to be broken. So as a safeguard, I’ve learned from The last time I spoke And have yet to speak again. For my words are drenched in pyrrhic moments And come out like a tiger’s chuff. So I’ve stopped. To you, my hazmat words simply turned your cheek. But for me, my words will always shape my seasons And will stray me from reality and actuality. I simply feign a smile or a frown and look down With rimy memories of my broken aglet and The last time I spoke. © 2016 Jashua F.Reviews
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1 Review Added on August 28, 2016 Last Updated on August 28, 2016 Author
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