Ditch the ads, upload images and much more - upgrade today from 5.95/month!
Read • Contests • Groups • Learn • Forums • Store • Help
 

for awhile

keep on keeping on through drawn
out days and closed down throats, a spark of light
arrives each night just to lock the doors of blue-hued bedrooms
sit down upon the bed by my side

there's only one way to be friends with you
and I always find myself here, I don't want
your lips anywhere near my thighs
or your voice to confront me angry and wild
at four-in-the-morning, oblivious to the rising sun
or the fact that my skin is rotting

everything is rotting
my fingers keep playing these games, trying to hold on
to something, but not sure what is left to clutch I don't
feel so much out of control as out of my head
and resisting your breath behind these locked doors
isn't helping

when I was younger I longed to chase the world
or at least to help something. Now
all I want is to know if it's possible
for anyone to be happy
I am rotting, I am rotting
I am rotting 

What did you think

    I plan to revise this poem: please leave constructive criticism!
    : , Your review:

    Comment Suggestion: What is your your first impression?
    • Line numbers  • Invite them to read
    : no Cost: 0 free left 0 points, You have (?)

Comments

  • heylookaneuphemism
    September 13

    Edit | Reply
    Strange, the sequence to the death of affection. Like walking through some surreal nightscape, not necessarily trapped, but more like paralized into nothing. Your writing hits me pretty hard. The title is outstanding, intimating, how long is too long. I think I'm in this place right now.