poetry by j matthew waters


standing there naked
your final pose
not feeling the knife
nor hearing the words
spoken over your body

somebody might be
taking notes
or talking into a mic
making comments
little to no relevance

there is no way out
this much you know
and so you breathe
ever so deeply
disregarding the past

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

Single Post Navigation

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: