Midnight left a eulogy on
my doorstep;
and you couldn't wait to
swim in my veins and clog arteries
with past transgressions.
Why do you wait for my guts
to spill into your palm;
and then paint scars with woe?
Didn't the splinters hurt when they
were pulled from your eyes?
yet I stand in a field of thorns,
waiting for my skin to grow thicker.
I am not dead...
yet.
Author notes
I gave it a shot, I know it didn't do your poem justice
A contest entry
- Poem Prompt #1: by amaranthine lover.
800 points, ended July 8, 10 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Sigh. I keep trying to give claps. But it doesn't seem to be working.
LM -
Claps for you.
Lilac Moon -
Came back for a third read (always a good sign -- obviously still thinking about this piece); truly intense imagery here.
This time while reading, I see how it relates to the prompt.
Lilac Moon
-
.A stunner.
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