365 Days of Poetry: Day Two-Hundred and Twenty-Five

Inspired by this prompt from Way too Fantasy.

a full bloom glow.
melts the winter’s freeze.
and I see that he.
is not for me.
and I see that we.
weren’t meant to be.

seven years of solitude.
and I am tired now.
of not being on my own.
of not knowing how.
the words don’t come.
the words don’t run.
off my fingers.
and I.
can barely breathe.

what was I thinking?
this is no dream.
this is no scene.
I can erase.
this is no joke.
or arms race.
the beauty lost.
the pain obscured.

what is the word.
what is my world.
beyond four walls.
I always see.
beyond the tiny.
median strip tree.
beyond a favored balcony.
that brings no peace.
infiltrated, no release.
from suffering, I cannot hide.
I cannot go, I have my pride.
the fading shreds prevent my death.

I sit and struggle.
what is left but wet and lies?
promises and truths that died.
I left, there is no balcony.
no galley kitchen.
no books to see.
I left, there is no place.
for me, a root.
pulled tight, too tight.
to see, too long to find.
some proper loam.
to burrow through.
to find a home.

lost in a gutter.
of my own making.
of course no one.
knows what to say.
to kill the darkness.
of my days.
of course.
no one knows what to do.
to end the blame.
to end the blue.


About June Faramore

Writer of fantasy, mainstream, and young adult fiction. Poet and sketcher. Mother. I read a lot and love cheese. Guitar playing singer-songwriter. I also enjoy stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk. View all posts by June Faramore

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