Unspoken

The words left

unsaid the space

between silence

The hand that would

touch dare not love

unacknowledged

feelings unexpressed

simmer opinions

dismissed rejected

before leaving the

lips noiseless tears

speak volumes as

does your back

staring resolutely

into cyberspace

what is behind the

screen more important

fascinating than the here

and now me avoid admitting

confronting the writing

on the wall screaming

the corpse is your marriage

rotting mummified soon the

neighbours will complain notify

authorities can’t keep it under

wraps anymore the truth will

out then the final curtain

falls the cast go our different

ways to rehearse a new script

the second half of my life post

wedded bliss the male lead fell

crashing from his pedestal the

female in a heap cradling shattered

shards fragments of her heart

wallowing yes indeed wallowing

in self pity anger woe is me why

me why now why all this shit in

such a short space of time to

little old me excuse me script

writer, director, producer i

demand a different ending a

less tragic one the shit does

hit the fan but they work

through it and still hold

hands on that wooden park

bench at 64

 

Sometimes life is sad it doesn’t

work out the way you hoped

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About cho wan yau

Teacher by day poet/writer by night. Words have been my first love and will be my last. As a child I locked myself into the toilet devouring books which transported me to distant lands. Poetry shared penned from 2009-2010 in a titanic struggle to stay sane at Heartbreak Hotel. Please check it out on chowanyau@wordpress.com. Any comments or feedback welcome. Why not share your story with me, because we all have one, don't we?

Posted on October 10, 2013, in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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