It’s finished. It’s over. The curtain has fallen.
It’s too late now for the words unspoken.
What never was said shall never be spoken.
All that was unuttered, shall remain a token
Of all that we’ve lost and failed to save,
Of all the feelings that left no trail.
It’s finished. It’s over. Forget that I existed.
I don’t wish to remember how I was treated.
I forgive. I forget. I move on.
No point in stringing it along.
Once you meant the world to me;
Now – you’re a fading memory.
It’s finished. It’s over. It’s the finale.
There’s no going back down that alley.
We closed the door. We threw out the key.
There’s nothing to salvage. Don’t you see?
Let’s keep the last shred of dignity
And part with some amiability.
It’s finished. It’s over. It’s time for goodbye.
I see no sorrow in your empty eyes.
The handshake is limp, your hand is cold,
My heart is indifferent. I reach for my coat.
I put my hat on, pull on the gloves,
And walk away from you and your bluffs.
Mother, lover, dreamer, poet, politics addict: Nara Hodge describes herself as a lover of words forever in awe of written word and the formidable beauty of poetry. She believes in therapeutic writing and often uses her poetry to express her pent-up emotions and untangle the chaotic thoughts of her restless mind. Nara refers to her writing as Restless Reflections, which is also the title of her first poetry collection in English that is currently in progress.
Nara writes poetry in English and Russian. She lives with her family in beautiful Oxfordshire, England.