The half empty bottle of vitriol
that you left on my shelf
when you moved on
I take a sip from it everyday
the days, as a result, become palatable
but the nights need
something stronger
so I drink a cocktail of vitriol and torment
sometimes I add a dash of despair
and always garnish it with self-pity
but sadly it is still not potent enough
to knock me out completely
the hangover always leaves me
crying out your name in anguish.
Sharing it with dVerse OLN.
The green, moist moss of loneliness in my chest
supine leaves whisper unsung songs
The whispered songs follow me in my dreams
blistering pearls fall freely from the eyes
Blistering pearls falling with thundering noise
leaving razor thin cuts where they fall
Razor thin bloodless cuts left by angry words
pain rises like irate welts all across my body
Irate welts pulse like the vein in my neck
beating, beating, beating waiting for respite
Beating, beating down the door
desultory despair comes looking for shelter
Shelter seeking despair finds welcoming home in
the green, moist moss of loneliness in my chest
Today’s NaPoWriMo challenge is to write a “duplex.” A “duplex” is a variation on the sonnet, developed by the poet Jericho Brown. Here’s one of his first “Duplex” poems, and here is a duplex written by the poet I.S. Jones. Like a typical sonnet, a duplex has fourteen lines. It’s organized into seven, two-line stanzas. The second line of the first stanza is echoed by (but not identical to) the first line of the second stanza, the second line of the second stanza is echoed by (but not identical to) the first line of the third stanza, and so on. The last line of the poem is the same as the first.
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