At times your chapped words ring stiff breaking ribs with every sentence.
You spill out films of misery from every crevice of your tongue.
I keep coming back as the stain of those phrases are washed off my hands.
That’s what insanity does it mettles with perception.
At times you hold me like a trinket on your wrist.
And when you swear you never knew me you glance at me.
I know the truth for the screen in your eyes has never uttered fallacy.
You were my pigeon, I your stoop but we both flew too soon.
We were the thrust of cold winter wind.
We were the stories never lanced to memories.
A contest entry
- Wild Word Bank - 10/10/20 by Gypsie Ink.
450 points, ended April 28, 2008, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
so how was it
Comments
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Interesting
I really like "You were my pigeon, I your stoop but we both flew too soon." Nice write.
Thank you for your entry and Best of luck in the contest.
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A very enjoyable piece, Best of luck to you ~Bret~
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