Cold as a dry cube of ice
sticking to my tongue,
your eyes freeze me
in suspended animation,
a harsh interjection
when all I wanted was a pretty lie,
not the naked truth.
Tags: Cadence, Eric Stephenson, Interjection, Poetry
Eric Stephenson is the publisher and editor-in-chief of US Represented. He is also a contributing writer. Mail him at email@example.com if you would like to submit some of your work for possible publication or ask him questions about the site.
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