The Waiting

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poetry by Phil Benton

Breath cut short with every turn,

The blade’s relentless slither true.

Scarlet ooze trails through the furrow,

Shades of grey lie in the wake.

Heart once blushing, warm in love’s glow,

Cowers trembling, dreading the end.

Light fading, flickering, dimming,

As the blade’s path becomes clear.

Pleas for mercy muted by reason,

Fall like silent snow, melting.

The blade’s edge gains momentum,

As love releases its flailing grip.

Heart once proud, bursting with lust,

Sighs in defeat and lies down to rest.

Resigned to breathless waiting,

For love to come home.

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About Phil

Hi, my name is Phil. I’ve managed to escape the corporate world, rid myself of excess belongings, travel the country extensively in my old Winnebago, and find a new home on a beautiful barrier island in the Gulf of Mexico. I define myself as: a free spirit, a writer, a philosophical anarchist, a poet; a lover of nature, a lover of art, a protector of animals, as well as a devoted friend and partner
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2 Responses to The Waiting

  1. What a journey. It must be worth the fight. Thank you for sharing.

    Like

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