Lost Love
H
Herbert Nehrlich
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There was no love,
not even lust.
Indifference had,
so cunningly,
come through
the door,
the one in back,
with screens all torn.
They did not know
how in those years
those feelings could
get atrophy
and shrivel up
one early Spring
to die.
To make his point,
she would take notice,
he loaded buckshot
in each chamber.
And within seconds,
the moon a sliver,
they had become
what most they feared.
Bu şiiri puanla
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