Hope is tied
to my soul at the wrist,
as I pull and squirm
and kick and scream
to let her free.
She doesn’t deserve
to be tied down
next to me.
Bruised and limp
between the sheets.
I stare into the dark,
and relive the nightmares,
afraid to sleep,
drown in the prayers,
the distractions, the pleas.
And still she whispers
that she’ll never leave.
It’s not my fault, and one day
I’ll see. She won’t rest
until I’m finally free.
I feel her embrace with each struggle to breathe.
Author notes
http://i167.photobucket.com/albums/u131/rosedarkthorn/Pictures/Dark/7d20c24fb3dd0d414b15bfb2c6fdee0b.jpg
personal. about hope.
A contest entry
- Reserve and Wait by Rose Dark Thorn.
1200 points, ended July 2, 2008, 16 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
I love this. I adore how you created a second person watching her struggle as they struggle as well. It was very creative and certainly not what I expected, but that is definitely a good thing. Wonderful take on the picture.
-
http://i167.photobucket.com/albums/u131/rosedarkthorn/Pictures/Dark/7d20c24fb3dd0d414b15bfb2c6fdee0b.jpg
If this one doesn't work for you, let me know and I'll give you one more.
Adding your comment:
