poetry

The Watcher

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He became a watcher of her time, over seeing her wishes.
Conscientious of her hard work, distracting her decisions.
Total resentment bursting at the seams
Protesting aspects of her wisdom, harboring revisions, to her dreams.
His dedication to reasoning,
left long ago.
Now he seeks happiness,
in clipping her wings, ruffling her feathers, criticizing all actions,
and killing her pleasures.
He found his peace,
within,
going against her smile.
In the past, he’d cried for her,
say he’d die for her,
even search the world,
walking desert miles, to her.
He smells her ambition,
as she hold’s it quite tightly.
While disregarding her prayer’s, interrupting them nightly.
Dashed hope and wishes that never reached his, undestined stars,
he’s left standing still,
watching, hers,
bitterly, and scarred.
It certainly changed him, into a joystealing, energy zapping, unhappily ever after,
the frustrated,
disastrous left turn,
into oncoming traffic,
a one man army,
bitterly standing alone,
looking for new ways,
to add dismay to her zones.
He watched her eyes,
even as they held a sore spot
to his healing.
Offering assistance,
a shoulder,
even a loving ear,
she remembered the way she used to love him so dearly.
That was until his watchful eyes became, unapologetic and unappealing.

Poetry By Tamara Dorsey-Moore
Thinker on the Loose
Copyright (c) 2017 Reserved purposes.Reblog

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