Waiting

I am
caught in the
net of time
The clock has stoped
dead
and the only movement
are the drops of dreams
that have not been lived
and longing like smoke
that roams
but has no one
to dissolve into.
my life is
set on the
black backdropp of
empty night
and from that emerges
the memory of his form
and the semblance of his voice
now just siholette
cut into my mind

by Nicoletta Rose Carlone

Other poems of CARLONE (18)

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