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T.R.E.A.T.S. #9 – Coffee Shop Poet



Thoughts are also silent

Unable to respond

Afraid of decision

And happiness


Three words

Written, but not returned

Selfish and absorbent

Destined for departure

And loneliness



Sharply fixed upon him

Matched with such a blank stare

White tablecloth heavens

Of emptiness



Stars would surely align

If he’d connect the dots

Canopies empower

Their maker



Scrunching her face

There’s a thousand yard space

Between his brain and his eyes



Slowly seeps down

Ink blots on lined paper

With the pace of cowardly



That he

Put his foot down so hard

There’s a hole in the floor

No carpenter of stature

Could repair




And it just won’t go away…won’t go away…won’t go away…

Don’t go away…



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