I blew the whistle
;the metal pressed against my ivory teeth
and I placed my hands together
is praise of the stars and their creator
for such a deliverance.
the skies melted into pure yellow sunshine
that jaundiced and cracked to familiar gray
only I take no comfort from the acquaintance.
she is a vixen I should have never danced with
,the black of her eyes meant to be warnings
ironic white flags against flagstone.
she twisted me into a submissive fool
found flouncing on butterfly wings
that crumbled beneath the pressure.
I was origami hearts that melted
and degenerating when my arteries
were pumped with ice water and
I crystallized into glass shards
because people do throw stones
and I’m overly breakable.
Author notes
Listening to Moving Units - Crash & Burn Victims.
I'm angry.
I'm whatever.
I don't want to care.
This is not what I intended...
Comments
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The poem is great and I love the metaphors. Then again, I am a big fan of metaphor.
I understand your anger but don't give up on caring. TRUST Me. It leaves you feeling more hollow than anyone could possibly imagine. There are plenty of assholes in the world, but I am faithful (for no particular reason) that good can come out of the world. Perhaps I'm naive.
Anyway, great poem and a great simile for the title. -
This is just so, so, so emotive.
Pure, beautiful emotion.
I love this, i love this, i love this, i love this, i love this, i love this..
"found flouncing on butterfly wings
that crumbled beneath the pressure."
and I'm restraining myself from completely quoting the last stanza.
Brilliant.
I am bookmarking it., so i can read this again and again and again
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