9/25 Poem by Nick Kasparie

The sun may set as I decay
Into a place of disarray
Where everywhere I see a pair
Of lovers who've caused me despair,
But I must hold a countenance
Of patience which can’t cease to hold
The hand that I must someday fold,
And though it may seem mountainous,
This face of stone must never crack
Despite the love my heart may lack
From all the hate it’s seen before
In people whom I now ignore
As if they were themselves a stone
With jaded eyes and ruby lips
Of beauty that may just eclipse
The truth beneath: the rotted bone.