The End – a poem.

What can be said
For to empty my head
Apart from ‘it wasn’t The End’.
That epic tale
Of the previous male
Still had a reprieve to be penned.
I don’t do what ifs,
Or hanging on cliffs
Only finite conclusions are made.
It had to be finished
In my mind; diminished.
And now, to rest, it’s been laid.
The short stories too,
Like the epic one; through,
But there’s still one loose end to be tied.
The timing not great,
My head in a state,
I’m maybe now ready to try.
For I don’t feel like we’re done,
Though you don’t want to hold on,
So our story just hangs in the air
Awkwardly waiting
For a touch, for awakening,
Because it knows that, for you, I still care.
Tessa Smith, January 2012.
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