
Despair dropped like dead weight on her shoulders
the pain of desertion writ on her drooping lips
her stricken heart too smote to smoulder
her vacant eyes on a distant horizon affixed
the pain of desertion writ on her drooping lips
soft whispers lay entrapped in her dilapidated heart
her vacant eyes on a distant horizon affixed
never sleeping or blinking, continuing to smart
soft whispers lay entrapped in her dilapidated heart
voiceless screams tapping vociferously in her chest
never sleeping or blinking, continuing to smart
her eyes; nothing but twin pools of morass of emptiness
voiceless screams tapping vociferously in her chest
her stricken heart too smote to smoulder
her eyes; nothing but twin pools of morass of emptiness
despair dropped like dead weight on her shoulders.
A Pantoum on the theme of abandonment for David’s W3 where yours truly is the POW.