The space... too much to grasp
Dwindling and becoming the past
Running out of time I fight for love
Needing too much I shove
Over his edge I plummet
Puncturing heart, I become what I dreaded
Tiny space now... I press in on myself
Calling out but no sign of love to help
A contest entry
- Picture Inspiration VIII by Samplette.
1000 points, ended September 3, 2008, 13 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Excellently written, I liked the way you used the layout and the feeling of suspence created. I love the feeling this poem has to it, from the first line it pulled me into it's creativity. I also enjoyed the simplicity of the title. Well done.
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A strong write. Very well crafted. Thank you for entering the contest. A sad take on the picture.
Sam
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