With Nothing In Hand. - Poem by RIC BASTASA

early morning wakings
are fine with me
what with a fuming coffee
on the table
and this outgoing silence
of the kitchen
what with all these unfolded
blankets and
pillows with your hair still
un-gathered from the hell
of our unguarded moments
last night and more nights to

sipping coffee is fine with me
in front of this personal computer
where my fingers traverse
a labyrinth of words and sentences
trying to satiate what this
thirst has long provided: an empty

a bloated thought, this sense of
trying to gather everything inside
your arms, and then

realizing that nothing is kept
forever, that each moment is just
a passing breath,

that no matter how deep you plunge
yourself into the abyss of your longings
you surface again

with nothing in hand.

Topic(s) of this poem: life

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Poem Submitted: Monday, November 30, 2015

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