Mirrors Underneath
Anonymity has giant leaps
that makes one vanished
and would not be tracked,
like soap bubbles busted.
It's a cushion for a repose,
when one's name becomes
too clutched to a shy neck,
booked for public's fancy.
And what fame embellishes
something must reciprocate;
that each concrete passage
has mirrors below the skirt.
poem by Melanie Agua
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Unimpressed
Unimpressed,
even though you discuss
and sketch details
of a wedding in Africa,
a honeymoon in Madagascar.
Indifferent,
inspite of the words
flavored to knock
such a cold distance
between us.
Suffused!
Your money is hanging
from my neck;
candle dinners, roses,
classic operas.
If only, dear...
we can be quiet
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poem by Melanie Agua
Added by Poetry Lover
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