(A lone voice whispers)

For a dash of exquisite fun

Try to have such a mesmerising style of creativity—when stimulating, visual imagery.

So all those within your prose's proximity:

Can enjoy its delicious delivery

(C) Copyright John Duffy

I keep thinking the next thing will be it.

Maybe the next job, the next project, the next person in my life.

But I don’t know what it is I’m searching for.

All I know is something is missing.

Step by step,
no louder than breath—
I walk beside
what isn’t mine to name.

No banners,
no blueprints,
just this sound
of stone learning softness.

You open a window.
I keep the door unlatched.

Let fear finish its echo.
Let the dark chants drift.

Not all ruin is ending.
Some of it
is soil.

Dear former lover,

You have no right to reach out to me anymore.

Since this is not intuitive to you, here’s a list of reasons why.  

1) Your feelings are no longer my responsibility. (That was your choice, not mine.)

2)  Carefully consider the following questions; Are you trying to clear your conscious? Are asking to use me to make yourself feel better?

3) There’s a great big world out there, filled to the brim with other people I’d rather talk to. What makes you think you have a claim on my free time?•

If you have any questions, please feel free to never reach out to me again.

(kindly),
f*** your feelings.

P.S. I changed your name to Mop in my phone, and the aforementioned name change is your contact photo. (Also, you’re blocked now.)

•how dare you

I want you to love me
the same way you’d love a shelter dog,
who flinches when you try to pet her
because she isn’t sure if you’ll offer a stroke
or if you’ll hit her.