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Open Poetry #44
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SlowlyFallAway
Member
since 2008-08-29
Posts 279
North Carolina

0 posted 2009-05-19 10:22 AM


I crash into thoughts of misapprehension
He escorted me down the nightmare of my darkest secrets
Twisting expressions of fantasy visions
Distorting my reality into his demon's fallen idol
For a sense of alleviation, I like to pretend he was never real
Proving certainty wrong, laughing in the face of existence
But as I walk alone down the corridor of my darkest secrets
I sense an omnious presense
One much like how I used to feel
Every time his hands generated contusions beneath my clothes
And his breath sang whiskey's song

Emily Shives
5-18-09

© Copyright 2009 Emily Shives - All Rights Reserved
Kaoru
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Member Elite
since 2003-06-07
Posts 3892
where the wild flowers grow
1 posted 2009-05-19 10:53 AM


"Every time his hands generated contusions beneath my clothes"

This poem is haunting. Great work.

viking_metal
Senior Member
since 2007-02-02
Posts 1337
In a Jeep, Minnesota.
2 posted 2009-05-19 11:23 AM


his breath sang whiskey's song...


...incredible.


absolutely brilliant.

Everyone deserves to be loved, even you.

kindredspirit
Member
since 2009-05-19
Posts 156

3 posted 2009-06-07 08:06 PM


the feeling behind this is powerful, and your technique sophisticated and skillful.
excellent!

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