Categories
Poetry

Your type

Stern, stiff and standoffish
Hard and dismissive
Pained and dissatisfied
But people expect things
All the time
A certain flexibility
A way in

We grow into these trees
Bolted to our roots
And everything is water

It takes a certain type
Your type
To walk away
From your sons
And don’t look back
Stone-faced
In the present
Asleep on the sofa
Drunk

Bogdan Tiganov

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