Not Sure What We Are...

by Katerina T Nix

Intrigued, i'm sure
to see
what's there-

much more than nothing

-Away from
these doors
of broken dreams
scrumpled up
that were
given when you
the comfort
of my bed

Your subtley changing
heart would
leave messages
in lipstick
on my dresser

I ask you, and
you tell me
they are
love letters

I say
I don't understand
your sanskrit scribbles


Posted on 12/23/2001
Copyright © 2022 Katerina T Nix

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 12/29/02 at 04:31 PM

you've garnered here, the wisdom of the ages in so few and chosen words.

Posted by Ashok Sharda on 04/13/03 at 10:47 AM

Interestingly sanskrit is a dead language. Language of scriptures which communicates nothing unless internalized. WHAT IS is IS, and can be sensed in the realm of languagelessness. Untruths need aid of language. Nice piece.

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