Too late
She looks at me through glass eyes,
Whispering words without air.
No one could hear.
No one could bear.
Through hushed tones and quick glances,
they only knew what they wanted to know.
Looking back through those glass eyes I could tell.
Pleading, begging, screaming silent words,
I knew.
I could finally hear .
But it was too late,
Those were her last words.
👁 5💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.