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Low, gray ceiling


What happens...
when the bones of a soul
lie forgotten, forever
in a place without address?

What happens...
when you look in the mirror
but there's no one to look at?
Do you think you're a memory
or just a wish stifled?

What happens...
when pauses get longer
(and longer)
and you wonder if you're still breathing
Do you paint, a picture of death?

Do you even wonder if you were born
in the first place?

What happens...
when you reach out, and plastic leaves
are all that you touch
When the sky is a low, grey ceiling
pushing your head
into the knees?

What happens...
when you love, but love isn't enough
to stop the seepage?
Those special hearts,
that build a warm cocoon around you,
aren't enough to thaw the frozen?
Its still so hard, to let go!


But the carcass is all that's left
and the shell is withering too
crumbling, scattering...
like dry leaves from a fallen tree
into a place that never happened
in a memory that never was.

What happens then...?



c o p y r i g h t    p r o s e n j i t  r o y

  New works || Sketchbook || Old works || Old-master studies || About me || Contact