Red Ink Stains

The wall is a wall.
Sometimes it traps me here
in a one wall room,
nothing up and nothing down,
only my toes touch the ground.
The door hides from me
and whispers “You have no love.”
No love to share,
blank wall stare.

Others find the door
from another stare,
another place,
another face,
and correct me,
my inner space,
a lonely face,
until I lose my place,
and fall through
the invisible floor.
Till I am no more.
Loveless whore.

© 2014 John Allen Richter



If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
Rudyard Kipling



About johnallenrichter

I am an aspiring Poet and adorer of life, a conqueror of nothing. However I am a champion curator of truth and friendship and hold both of those things most dearly to my heart. Welcome to my mind's eye. I hope you will enjoy what you may find and please know that you have a friend here. View all posts by johnallenrichter

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