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Faucet Drip


 

So

   there breathe lies that bruise chap lips,

And

   band of white wed finger’s voice,

But

   lover’s eyes remind me I’m,

a second choice.

 

So

   paint rust stain ‘low faucet drip,

And

   plumbers paid for greedy choice,

But

   I must leak until my death,

a vacant voice.

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16 thoughts on “Faucet Drip

  1. ugh man…a second choice is hard enough…the imagery in the second bit of the faucet and its relation to you as well…leaking out as a vacant voice…nice and evocative man…

  2. That’s a very powerful poem. The end is both very effective… and terrible: “I must leak until my death”, what a frightening omen… Good writing, I like the symmetry of so/and/but’s.

  3. The lack of length by no means belittles the power of this piece. A sad play on the prompt today…I know all too well what being played like a second fiddle feels like 😦 This one hit!

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