Half Past Four 

 

Wax work, soft 

imitation of life 

Posed on a pedestal 

Paused with infinitesimal 

Care 

Every inch measured

Every vein contoured 

To be frozen, decorational,

There 

You left me

To be lifeless all day

Almost real to touch, they sing

Who would’ve thought such a thing 

-so real, just see
But I stay mute, expressionless, on the floor 

Till they fall into little deaths of sleep, at

Half past four 

In that stillness

I breathe 

©CM

12.02.2017

Don’t wait for the night, to come to life. These days are no one’s but yours… 
❤ 

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