Wordless Poem [sonnet]

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I have no words. Well that is how it feels.
Yet here are lines of letters on the page
which make themselves the cruel shape of a cage,
imprisoning my heart and my ideals.

I am my own worst enemy. Too true!
But someone has to take the role or else
I can no longer satisfy myself
that I have protected my soul from you.

All that I have wanted was osmosis —
that trembling two-way interchange of dreams
and constant flow of passion in between —
but fear made you push away such closeness.

If only you had opened like a bud;
I would not have to spill our precious blood.


© 2011, Alan Morrison

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