poetry by j matthew waters


—with a nod to Don Henley

You don’t call me anymore
my queen of hearts
always out with your fabulous friends
leaving me to reinforce
my habits & my vices
occasionally tinkering with thoughts
turning some into words
into sounds
into symbols
scratching out some sort of picture
a sort of black & white dystopia
search party fully assembled
and sent from above
desperately chasing my senses

august two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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