Atropos Leaves Her Lover Behind

poem about moving on

Spoken Word

Wondering when she can’t do things
erase
The lead streaks remind
One of the empty parking
Lot that we went to — the hill underneath
The tires matched how
Still we were after
after
whispering
Things no amount
Of rubber will
erase
Herald dawn’s sticky
Fingers on our shoulders
We never saw it
In our dream, maybe
But by then
you
Were gone and the
Letter I crumpled
Your stand-in
Could it be that for
Some reason
All of you
was just not
As intent as that
Night? We all
never
Wish for endings
could
I
erase
you(?)

more by LORD BISON

CHECK OUT: That Golden Woman – A Spoken Word Album by Lord Bison

photo by Mike Wilson on Unsplash

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Lord Bison

Jazz-soaked spirit running circles around despair...or something like that. Really. Lover of words, lover of being in worlds free...just...free. New Yorker, artist, Virgo besieged by airhead tendencies akin to Libra moves. Bronx is home base. Began an obsession with writing at seven and twenty-odd years hence, still at it. Enjoy/love/hate/be bored/appreciate to your heart's content. Or something like that. http://www.lbisonartist.com

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