It seldom worked…
Disagreement.
Felt unreal.
Resentfully shoved aside.
Thoughts held captive…
Indemnified.
Too late.
Nothing was forgiven.
Grim words penned…
Misspelled.
Made sense.
Left at that.
Every you knows…
Someone.
Like me.
A small world.
©Aaysid
“It is my ambition to say in ten sentences what others say in a whole book.”
Friedrich Nietzsche
Featured image from Pexels
Outrageously Erratic 
oh yes, “Every you knows…
Someone.
Like me.
A small world.”
Fab last line!
❣️
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Thank you, Cindy. I am happy that you liked it.😊
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💞PLEASURE! ❣️!
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Absolutely Wonderful , Aaysid. Love it.💕
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Thank you so much, Grace. I am glad that you liked it.😊
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My pleasure . I sure did.💕
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This poem cuts to the quick with surgical precision. So many things, from encounters to relationships, end with this: “Too late. / Nothing was forgiven.” It makes for a lonely life. Lots to contemplate with this piece. Well done, Aaysid. 🙂
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Thank you so much for your insightful comment, Mike.😊
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No argument has ever ended with a satisfactory resolution. Well written, Aaysid. 🙂
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That’s true. 😬 Thank you, Terveen.😊
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Cleverly written and very apt, Aaysid. I particularly like the last four lines:
Every you knows…
Someone.
Like me.
A small world.
So true, too. Xx 💓🌼💓
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Thank you so much, Ellie. I am glad that you liked it.😊
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