Unfinished

This one ends with a cliff
hanger, hangman, hang on
to your guts; get a grip.
Don’t slip on your expectations.

False floor, word traveling.
Cut short, unraveling.

Meet me where the ground
bends. Make friends with thin air.
How dare you rest in peace,
wrapped in sheets of certainty.

Dead air, breath holding.
Two pair, cards folding.

Now they're playing your favorite
hue: out-of-the blues.
Thirteen past lives, pending.
Seems we've lost the ending.

Missing, credits wanted.
Wishing, surely haunted.

Tale out of order; one chord
unresolved and diminished.
Your silence is my business.
This poem will remain

Line count: 22 lines