she held onto gray shoe laces
laced beneath her knuckles
tying knots between the bone,
holding it all together while never
allowing herself to forget.
nail beds chipped away
like paint on a window frame
feet battered after sun drenched afternoons
lost to fleeted roads
blisters scream through the filth-the old.
and on the lip of the bath tub
she rinsed away grime in soft waves of blood
it dripped to the floor
making mazes in the tile and
before she could blink it was everywhere.
saturday, hope was balanced on every tree
gleaming bright against harsh green
and all the beautiful birds that'd
never sang before expanded their throats
but she barely cared enough to look.
Author notes
went for a long walk the other day
this is for me
Comments
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stanza three was stellar and stood out the most, but the entire poem was quite nice.
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