by BOB GALLO   Apr 2, 2019

He was throbbing in my arms.
Then my broken heart
was throbbing like wings in the empty air,
like his soul
in the nothingness of his void.

Now his clothes are throbbing in his closet
his smell in his clothes
in his ancient books, his wisdom,
his conscientiousness...

he is not throbbing
everything else


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Latest Comments

  • 8 months ago

    by Daniel

    Conscientiousness is an extremely odd choice of word, I really don’t see how it fits here. I adore the repetition of ‘throbbing’ though, you really craft words well. There’s always a story, and it’s poignancy is shown, not told. Fantastic ending too.

  • 8 months ago

    by Meena Krish

    Behind the image in each line lies the weight
    of a sadness, a longing...a touching write

  • 8 months ago

    by Rania Moallem

    What a sad heart-touching poem. The wording was far from cliche and was actually very smooth.. I'm moved by this piece, Bob!

  • 8 months ago

    by Zia Mikaela

    Wow! This is such a beautiful piece! It feels so melancholic and i can feel the emotions running through each word.