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Two thousand, one hundred and eighty.
| Open Poetry #40 |
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Two thousand, one hundred and eighty. |
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Allysa 
since 1999-11-09
Posts 1952In an upside-down garden 
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He is talking but the words are not making much sense, she'll start the walk down the crooked streets, across their country two thousand, one hundred and eighty lines engraved into her feet from the miles she walks while he sleeps, please do not try, I will not listen to your words, she will murmur, she will whisper to the dark sky as she walks, she will talk about the places they would go, and she is left to imagine what it is like to walk step after step, barefoot and two thousand, one hundred and eighty words are all we have said in our time, he is clutching the blanket, she is holding her wrist, checking for a pulse to make sure that life is what she is bringing two thousand, one hundred and eighty heartbeats she will press into his skin, hold him down to the ground, repeat the process again and again, just to share all the minutes so she won't be gone, and he won't be alone in the darkness, typing phrases about tears, she will not be hiding her face when she shrieks in the night, calling out for some- thing, something to save her. |
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| © Copyright 2007 Allysa - All Rights Reserved | |||
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passing shadows Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577displaced |
wow! sad but I loved it! |
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SmartChick Member Rara Avis
since 2001-09-23
Posts 7081On A Journey To The Unknown |
Awwww, this is so sad. |
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