the textures of fingertips
grace my skin with the pain
of unrealiable love
i am a streetlight angel
so worn out
so worn down
leaves fall on my unprotected hands
and break my smile
with a frosty glance
i am deep inside of a bubble
full of words so sharp
they cut my tounge as i
reach out for the textures
of fingertips
leave a comment or forever hold your peace...
Comments
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Dear Streetlight Angel;
Love doesn't rest in the playground nor does it hide behind false promises. Even a Bar Room Queen cannot find true love in fermented refreshments. I do however love your poem and the strength you've brought to the table in wisdom. Very well written!
In God's Love
Three Doves
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This was fantastic. I like the description. The ending is great.
<3
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