We frog march into destiny;
chid-like fingers
draining warmth with
innocent burns,
love bite crimes fade
in sulphurs death;
memories become
ashes in a cold fire place.
There are sighs to trip over;
missing threads in our web
where waft, weft have separated
leaving hoary stains
of numbness;
unyielding,
and tangled knots of laced spines
tremble to scalpels accusation;
separation is not death.
Author notes
Edits: 3 (19/08/08)
A contest entry
- Critiques by Melissa Gayle.
1650 points, ended September 4, 2008, 24 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Critique Requested
Comments
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I absolutely love your images, but I think there is just a bit too much in stanza one. I do this a lot myself, all those ideas and you want to get them all in there.
Otherwise, your writing is always extremely well done.
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thank you for your comments, i'd like to edit if thats allowed.
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I know this feeling all too well - never enjoyed it. Don't assume I ever will. However, for you to portray a feeling I deny is an accomplishment [in my personal world] already. Doing it beautifully as always - well, that's your talent.
♥x.
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