Oh, it is all so true! In some universe somewhere inside his head, maybe. I think the people in there will deal with him in a very harsh way. Can’t you see the signs? He is slipping away — just not fast enough.

Your ability as a writer always makes me interested in reading what you offer today. This is mainly why I find a site to frequent. Not for my own accolades, but to be energized by others’ writes. You do that, consistently. Bravo

it’s always the insecure ones that hate. LOL

Beautifully penned, Fia. Incredible write my friend, really like this a lot. Appreciate you, cuz.

Damian

It’s a beautiful thing when minds sync on one purpose. Your closing line couldn’t define it better!

Sweetly sung as whispers. A hint of seductive word play without being graphic. I like the subtlety. Leave the reader to build their own visions as they read. Well crafted Fia.

Thank you, Hj xx

Nicely done, Fia. Your romantic side is showing. 🙂

🙂 I’ll bet you can.

Superb and sensual. Excellent.

Nicely done, Fia, but it seems to need just a bit of punctuation to help with the flow, I wasn’t sure at first how to read it, stopping after each line, then going, “Oh, I see it now.” Nice work.

You can beat an egg and a drum and a carpet .. and a few other things besides .. but you just can’t beat a bit of sync now can ya eh’ .. Very much enjoyed the ride Fia .. Neville 😎👍

Hold on we have to go back to the beginning, we will return on your tightness

Fia, this read like an erotic encounter of a bewitchingly soft yet libidinal ambrosia. There is magic here that takes me into the heart of the poem. I could feel the silken sheets and that last line has to be the most original and brilliant ending “liquid ambrosia”.

John

hello dearest Rob wowee that’s quite a write I loved the ending ❤️

Rob, your poem is like a fever dream. I was instantly gripped by the desperate longing and brutal cynicism, and I loved the image of the Autumn chill being “chloroform to every dream buried under sand.” The sudden “Fox News” line completely took me off guard, but I found its cynical, real-world punch hilarious amidst the rawness. It’s a relentless plea – a cinematic scramble toward desire. Unforgettable.

Good morning, midnight. I felt the pulse of your poem in my chest, lungs swelling with fear and desire, words draping around me like sirens and streetlights. Each line carried me through a fevered promenade of longing, loss, and muted poetry. “The last comma is so close to coma” – that line stayed with me, a sharp, exquisite ache.

The collab <3

Ghosteen, It's always a pleasure to read your poetry.