tell
by Shari-Lyn McArthur
This text will be replaced by the
flash music player.
At least it's raining out
and my tears
can run to ground
unnoticed
by passersby.
But not by you.
That poker face is your tell;
your bluff
of quietude
a muted hell
never once
eroded
by my rain.
I did not tell you,
when you said
I told you so.
You did not see me coming,
now you can not stop
seeing me go.
All rights reserved by the author.
Home
List of poems
Submissions/Contact
us