I wasn't quite dead
But you buried
Me anyway
It wasn't much Of a ceremony But what Did I expect
I wish this hole Was deeper Because I can still Hear your voice
Going on and on To your friends About all the ways I wasn't right for you
And who invited Them anyway They're your friends
Oh, that's right You did I wish it was Sunday Then you could Move on Go to brunch Or something And Leave me At the bottom Of this hole
You've thrown Enough dirt On me For today
I know, I know You never meant For it to be This way
But I was just so- And too- You needed me To be more- And not so- Yes, I know I get it Okay It's over
If you change Your mind Just know I'll be right Here, waiting In this hole For you Always


  1. Reblogged this on Mitch Teemley and commented:
    My Featured Blogger this week is River Dixon of The Stories In Between. I don’t know a lot about River, except that he lives in Arizona and writes short stories and poems; he has seven published collections to his credit. The poem below approaches painfully familiar territory: the pain of rejection. Sincere-but-amateurish love poems are legion. But that’s not River. River’s imagery and approach are fresh, polished, and all his own. Whether the subject is unrequited love or pandemic-driven isolation in 2020, he’s always worth reading. As his author page at Amazon puts it, he writes about “the darkness and the light which exist in all of us…(and) through this exposure comes an understanding of the common struggles shared by each of us.”

    Liked by 2 people

  2. The dialogue, the smooth flow of it, rings so humorously true. Could easily apply to any number of friendships that have gone in a hole to die, just for “dirt” reasons. Authentic and fresh.

    Liked by 2 people

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