they pass in the hallway

her shirt brushes his arm

the fragrance of perfume

draws memories out

against their will


her eyes seem to say

that he’s lost his charm

though her countenance exudes

a welcoming shout

that sends chills


he goes through the day

not wishing her any harm

though he willfully chooses

to embrace doubt

love be still


so he’ll choose this life of pain

a cold heart, never warm

he’d almost rather lose

forfeit this bout

passion is chilled


he’s had his fill

stepped away from his vow

his ego’s still bruised

her heart’s alarmed

alone she’ll pray


This is my submission for the Warrior Poet Circle. The prompt this week was “Lonely.”

Go check out some of the other submissions here.


About Delton

Dad, husband, drummer, cyclist, writer, poet, and Christ-follower. Right-brained dreamer solving left-brained problems. Trying to relate in new and creative ways. View all posts by Delton

4 responses to “brushes

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