Uriah Hamilton


(1) Two Scoundrels


I remember distinctly
her eyes in the rain
and gloom descending
from off her mascara.

I thought of suicides,
desolate train rides,
words of apology
never realized,
overwhelming hopelessness.

Something always
remained hidden between us,
an inability to commit
to anything greater
than our personal fears.

I'm now convinced
two scoundrels
unworthy of others
should make a final attempt
for happiness.

I've got confessions to make,
last rites to choreograph,
wreckage to escape from,
a catalog of aftermath
to enumerate,
a lifetime of self-hate
and such miniscule time
to realign my thoughts
and think straight.

Submitted: Monday, March 24, 2014
Edited: Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Topic of this poem: love


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