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You cracked the eggshell of my mind,
And now I find
The torture was just a pose.
Didn’t you know?
You’re just a statue wearing clothes

This is the silver season of the lonely spark
Where madness comes out to play,
In black sun treason so dark –
That I fade, waiting for another day.

I tried to plant the seed
But the night strangled me
In pale death-light,
I was alone.

In solar symmetry
Sorrow bites me sharp,
And draws dark blood
To please a silent harp

The dust of a lunar scar
Powder white, and cold –
Tears open the sky
Of a world that’s not mine

And in that chasm
I’m aching,
Under the weight
Of your nothingness.

© Sean Macro 2013


Today’s featured poem comes from Sean Macro. This isn’t the first piece of his we have published, and we’re always delighted to get the chance to feature works by this young, up-and-coming poet. Here, Sean paints a tableau of loneliness and disappointment, of being left out in the cold and suffocated under the weight of love gone wrong, of human interaction at it’s most miserable and isolating. The poem has a great use of structure, pace and literary constructs, and the craft of the wordsmith ebbs and flows through this piece, and pulls us into it fully.

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