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Open Poetry #37
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The rose in my hand
| Open Poetry #37 |
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The rose in my hand |
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playing.with.crayons Member
since 2006-01-02
Posts 362Neverland 
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There are no ticking clocks where I am. No hours, no seconds nothing is counted. I finger a withering rose delicately dying in the palm of my hand And the world freezes. No spirits choked down in effort to quiet the screams in my head. Nor spinning reality to reverse what I see in my mind. And someone laughs. Too many tears and too many lies Nowhere to run back to now. crumpled papers on the floor with scrawled words spelling out nothing but how stupid I have been. My hand drops and the rose petal by petal falls apart. I can be happy, I assure myself. Only problem is Nothing lasts forever And it's there, in that moment When I walk in the rain with a smile painted on my throat So high my head brushes the moon It's there That I know how far there is to fall. farewell the ash-tray girl [This message has been edited by playing.with.crayons (04-22-2006 07:53 AM).] |
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| © Copyright 2006 cheye - All Rights Reserved | |||
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playing.with.crayons Member
since 2006-01-02
Posts 362Neverland |
Argh gosh I've been having a serious block lately. hard enough to get this out. hopefully it is only temporary! |
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