Contumacious

contumacious thoughts run through
like an old, broken record
playing again and again…

nothing to stop it as
it grows on you
like fondness for a certain tune..

it holds like manacles
strapped close,
tight and firm.

strong, unbroken chains
will not yield
to soft-spoken sighs..

still, the arch affronts
it does not beg but demands.

strangers do stray,
making excuses for being lost.

coming towards unspoken lengths of silence—
explanations, not comprehended yet welcomed
with fervor.

contumacious thoughts running through
and is met;

thanked for.

-Date Created: April 12, 04-