The idle chattering of a family occasion.
It swings around every holiday.
The gathering of peas from the same unhappy pod.
Talking without saying anything.
Bloodless, insipid, mundane.
All emotion sunk deep down, beneath the layers of years.
Hatchets left swinging in the breeze.
Bury one in me?
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 10:57 AM UTC
The idle chattering of a family occasion.
It swings around every holiday.
The gathering of peas from the same unhappy pod.
Talking without saying anything.
Bloodless, insipid, mundane.
All emotion sunk deep down, beneath the layers of years.
Hatchets left swinging in the breeze.
Bury one in me?
