Poetry · Writing

silver medal

there is no where to escape

all exits are blocked

and i hold my hands

wishing on a star that i’m not acquainted with

not yet;

for an answer

the pedestal is so lonely

second; third is a ghost

and first, first is somewhere else

here and no crowd or medals

just a box with white chalk numbers.

no one would believe me;

with all these opened doors

they never checked the locks

no one remembered those nights wandering

smoke in the air – silence

no one remembers the phone calls they never got

dialed and hung up dialed and hung up dialed

just to hear an answering machine

to feel the chills down your spine-

no one talks about it.

so we just sit on a couch a ghost, the one who got away

and me, a silver medal

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