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Stained
| Teen Poetry #7 |
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Stained |
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Ixxi Member
since 2004-01-02
Posts 77England |
Sadness your face tears from I can’t help but sit and wish on cliches and the spaces in between your laboured breathing. Why you fake faking I cannot understand and certainly cannot question. You walk your so-called distances while I wait and see if you come back with mud on your shoes. It’s not doubtful but you act as if I can’t see at all. Would you had told me how you so desperately stained yourself without an iota of thought. Sometimes I just can’t see the right way. I’m still back here following a trail of unconnected patterns, mingled with shapes and an unjust, hopeful hallucination, while you watch. Lift a finger, light a candle, what more can you do? I need your comfort, but, as both our thoughts need hesitantly putting into words, I’m not yours to cradle. "Where paper cuts, and bloody hands, In the middle, they will meet" - Funeral For A Friend |
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Ixxi Member
since 2004-01-02
Posts 77England |
[In memory of Kathleen Harvey] |
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