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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Polluteddots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: Narna
    Elite Ratio:    1.73 - 14/102/70
    Words: 65
    Class/Type: Misc/Misc
    Total Views: 1189
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 472



    Description:
       


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsPolluteddots
    -------------------------------------------


    We sit,
    I'll admit; awkwardly.
    Conversation dripping,
    Slipping in and out of
    revery.
    Lost it,
    Every last bit.
    Missing so long,
    I'm beginning to doubt
    It ever existed.

    I had a rock in my hand, that
    when I held on too tightly,
    crumbled.
    Tumbled through my fingers;
    Watched the grip, slip on
    Reality.
    Sod,
    Another dirt clod.




    Submitted on 2013-04-03 22:31:08     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      This reminds me of how very, VERY much I hate making small talk! It always seems unnecessary and contrived, and you have captured to awkwardness of it exactly! The last two lines, "Sod, Another dirt clod" sound like you are not referring to an inanimate object anymore, but a person. I don't know if this is what you intended, but it works! Did this incident actually happen? If so, congratulations to you for having the gumption to write about it; that couldn't have been comfortable...

    ~Truffles
    | Posted on 2013-04-11 00:00:00 | by Trufflepiggy | [ Reply to This ]


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