Lost, mid-sentence



I wanted to
write the words,
but they lay heavy
on my chest
their sound
a faint whisper
in the grays
of uncertain dialect.
the silence soothes
but often,
it deepens the grooves
of disconnect.
I feel
I feel
the distance
between the colors
and their hues
between the writer
and the muse.
My hands reach
but hold empty thoughts
that roll quietly
on an empty tongue.
I lay parched
beneath a blazing sun
my last words
need be spoken,
but I don’t’ know
what to say.

(c) Sumyanna 2018


6 Comments Add yours

  1. Yacoob says:

    I’ve been there too…waiting for that final bit to come and tie it all up nicely. Sometimes it never comes, unfortunately, and we’re left with unfinished pieces not ready to be seen by others.


    1. Sumyanna says:

      Never easy for a writer to be at a loss for words… or perhaps, just finding it difficult to put words to feelings. Hopefully we will find them!


  2. This poem certainly provides food for thought, Sumyanna. I hope you are doing well?


    1. Sumyanna says:

      Thank you Robbie. We are doing well. We just decided to take a month or so off to take a break from the computers and enjoy some time together (outdoors or indoors). It has been nice, but I am also glad to be back as well. Sometimes, rest is necessary and I do have to admit that I feel more energized now.

      Liked by 1 person

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