Transistional Friend
I am felled by incoming sound
coming up from her throat-well
with a swooshing gush,
smashing against my inner ear
friendly lamentings
and apologies
sweet demeanor and conveyances
now clear;
that goodbye;
let's be friends;
come with these utterances,
which slice through
like ice
to within;
where I stand behind beaded curtains,
unable to defend
or flee.
Love demoted to a Lower Tableau
Transitional Friend.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Added by Poetry Lover
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