“The end of herself”

Another Wednesday Prompt. We’re suppose to write a dead end poem. I seem to be running into a lot of those. Note: not all poetry is autobiographical, but you never know. . .

“The end of herself”

Summer after summer
while she waited for someone
to stoop
to lift her chin

and stare intently into her eyes,
the faces in the knotholes
in the floorboards
below her knees

mirrored a friend.

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Speak to me of thoughts unspoken.

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