Comet


You went through the room like a comet blazing
and I followed in your wake 
basking in your energy
and sinking into your glib assurances 
never wanting to know how you got so good at
the games you played 
you were always the winner but never showed your hand
I ignored the winds of change  
until they blew my eyes wide open
and though the comet was still blazing
there was no warmth 
and as I stumbled away like a wounded animal
needing to hide
 and lick my wounds
I could hear the tinny
recording of the cheering crowd
playing over
and over
@jayetomas2014
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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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