Form: Prose Poetry
This prose poem talks about heartache. I did not use ‘fingers’ literally, but as a metaphor by using words such as, ‘ Point’.
Clap, and Waken
Radiant! Clap, or tap, my dear! I hear, in proximity to here. Why abandon my closure, but clothe my emotions? I listened for your words full of detritus. May I set free the flames for thee? I must point that they agree. The cloudless days are approaching, and the frozen slate – on the surface of your heart – it averts your true feelings; of fear, of love, of uncertainty. Be you – you decide – with me or without. You be who you were, or for whom I glistened my heart with sad tears. Point towards what should be true, persevere like on a quest for survival. Then, I clap and I am aware, of such probability.