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My Enigma (Tip of My Tongue)
You, my enigma,
are perfectly familiar:
I sit all alone
for hours upon hours
staring and staring
into your big, dark,
black-and-white eyes while
trying to find who you are,
hating your torment;
every minute that passes
without any sign
of the one you make me see
is another turn
of the wheel that pulls the ropes
that stretch apart my
frustrated hands and numb feet;
every second spent
not knowing who in this whole
maddening world your
smirky lips and angled brow
make me remember
is another burning stab
of the hot iron
of torture into my side.
You, my enigma,
are perfectly familiar;
the tip of my tongue
will eternally hold back
the answer I need
to the question that plagues me—
the question that you
instilled in my once-calm mind.
You, my enigma,
are perfectly familiar;
none can tell me why.

By Shawn Thornburg

© 2009 Shawn Thornburg (All rights reserved)


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