Stapled

 

I watched the young man

Spend seemingly hours

On his cell phone,

Pacing, leaning on

The railing,

Speaking very quietly

With that worse

Than death look,

If you’ve ever been

In love, lost love,

You know the story,

That hung out to dry

Feeling with the

Buzzards circling,

Someone else

 In her bed,

On her lips,

On her body,

Your heart blindfolded,

Stapled

To her night table,

Throbbing,

Listening to her

Cooing,

Exhaling,

Moaning

With delight.

 

Stephen Nesbitt ©

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