One, Two, Three.
I close my eyes.
I let time pass by
Too scared to move
Too scared to breath
My heart is pounding
My heart is slipping.
Footsteps coming
People wangling
Glasses crashing
Knocks on my door
I stay silent
The knocks get louder
The door opens
With a loud crack
Smoke fills the room
Everything gets blurred
Muffled voices are near
I still don't say a word
If I do
I will see you soon
Slowly loosing my breath
Now I am breathless.
Breathless without you.

by Monica Rose

Comments (9)

Amusing poem, he was a serious poet...........a relationship master and a perfectionist.
I was born to hustle roses down the avenues of the dead. Wow, that last line blows me away.
Does anyone have an impression of what what counts is waiting on walls means.
That last line hits hard.
The parallelism of sentences and repitition of words replaces the need for traditional rhyme.
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