20. The Final Cut & Its Aftermath
I’m stuck on how it ended,
so nonchalant, a slow walk
out the glass doors
into the rainy street,
traffic as exit music,
bleeding where no one
can see, strangers
side-stepping
any possible interaction.
Avoidance in motion.
No idea of the wounds
inflicted by sharp
tongues that couldn’t resist.
I’m in a kind of shock
after so much absorption,
after I’ve seen things
I shouldn’t have
because I paid too close
attention to the scenes
behind the main stage.
The in-between. The nuance.
I’m holding on to the belief
in grey areas where
I can kind of make sense of things.
I’m replaying moments
often forgotten — the fine,
hidden details which are
gorgeous puzzle pieces
that might not fit into the frame.
I’m struck by how there was no
glance back, just an empty stride,
which is the perfect suture
to stitch this wound closed.
Image by StockSnap from Pixabay
Thistle Thoughts 
Nice one😍thanks
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I’m glad you like it 🙂
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Very good poem Jennifer! Love the atmosphere! And particularly, the last two stanzas!
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Hear, hear!
I really feel the words of your poem, Jenn… Just excellent.
Much love,
David
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Thank you!
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Thanks, Dominic
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My pleasure Jennifer!
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I love how this makes me ponder whether cinema is the only way to process how awful people are to each other, or whether we’re that way because of cinema… Excellent job.
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Hmm, that’s an interesting thought line. I really would have to think about that. Thank you, Sun 💛
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