Poem -

Its Over

It is over
You did notĀ 
Tell me
Its sunday
Not monday
How do i find
A way too you
Im finding this
Gold aroma
Making it
Feel good a lil
Written too the bone
Feet to heart
Lung freeing me
Not tonite
It is over
Traces of shade
Everything somehow move
With you
What good is itĀ 
Reading the end
Curbs perfection
Sounds the flameĀ 
Your steps are behind
I know it is you
It is over
No imaginations
Shore waves
Portraiture of that flower
Only when it plays
Im naming you nunu
Sending up
The truth
From this booth
Down spin
Spills pole
Want it
Porcelain throat
Hand on pane
Only halve of the reality
Book pages are over
Leave open
Shaken necklace
Im going
Am i because
An you are not
Familiar rings
I do not belong
The throw off
Im up


more by Jonathan M. Williams Sr.

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