Standing still

Those who watch
are being recorded,
plainly kept
like lust
when the girl
nobody knows
sits alone at the next table.
There’s a spin
to anything unique,
a modesty
to these tragedies
where the way we feel
combines our senses
as the strangers unite
and the midnight sky
opens their eyes forever.

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About Sean O'Gorman

Spoken Word poet from Ottawa. View all posts by Sean O'Gorman

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