Lying and Laying
You
lied.
I stand
at the edge,
seeing you lay there,
far away, small, a broken doll.
How could you fall so low after saying you love me?
Couldn’t you love yourself enough
to love me enough
to choose life?
I know
you
lied.
(after the undated and untitled photograph of a man looking over a railing, by Francesco Verolino)
5 thoughts on "Lying and Laying"
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Interesting lineation here. May concrete, like the man looking out over the railing?
Thanks, Jim.
Okay, got my fingers crossed. Sigh. Septuagenarian Technology Deficit, also known as Fat Fingers.
Lay as in she lay on the ground after leaping from a window.
a very original kink
on the photo
Thanks, Jim. In some ways, an extension of yesterday’s poem.