The Start of the End of Things
Flustered sighs and unkept misgivings
Boil and spill over
Like unwatched pasta.
Only to settle again,
When fires momentarily quell.
The undercurrents stir still
Waiting, and amplifying reverberations
Of disquietude.
An unsettling notion to witness.
Cold and unforgiving,
The stony glances and frost ridden replies
Crust over a place once warm with love.
I guess this is the start of,
The end of things.
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