Poetry

It was a free fall, 
drowning me on the footpath. 
The yellow glare had 
scattered me completely. 
 
Left alone to suffer, the 
failure were you. When the 
brick come, you met yourself 
in the doorway of menacing home. 
 
The hunger pang was 
obsolete. The fish will 
not swim outside the orbit 
of a new isle for enigma. 
 
The Turkish stones, blue― 
green eyes, haunt me in 
sleep. Your life takes an 
about-face, march outside the promise.