Who will listen

I wander time to time
to that lonely
room of despair
but you are not there.
Just timeless words
left now to rot
gathering the dust
of moments taken
moments lost.
He doesn’t understand
yet the curvatures
of our reality, yet tries,
but what does it
matter when you are
lost to the skies.
You were the harshest
of lessons that I had
to learn, and I was
the friendship
that you had to earn.
Now who do I tell?
Who listens now?
Oh I hear your echo
I hear your shout,
Even now that you’re
not about…
Karen Hayward ©2017

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