Sponges Of The Heart....

faces do not matter now
a long time ago
a mole cannot escape
the mention

of an island
that lonely thing that
keeps us agape
about why

faces come like waves
of people that we do not
really care to know

who they are
and what they are apt to

they pass us by
and we pass them too
in that mutuality
of indifference

we are like saturated sponges
all wanting heat
to be empty again

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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