I’m dying
right here, now,
in front of his eyes but
unnoticed by him.
he can’t see the wounds
bleeding away pieces... of... me...
death
would be merciful but
he insists “no one gets out of this that easy.”
a heaviness passes through the air
and I start to believe
even ghosts can’t break free
of him.
He can’t escape himself
so why, his illogical mind declares, why should I?
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5 comments:
The tone of your poems betray an almost innate hurt or is it void? I wish i know the origins. But they are very very interesting. I almost felt i could give a shoulder, but well this is cyberspace.I will be visiting often.I tagged u! Keep posting..its nice work!
Hi endi,
Nice to meet you. I will go check out your blog soon. It's great to make a new online friend who is interested in poetry.
beautiful poem writer woman...i understand your pain.. you have mastered it with grace and eloquence..
Oh, thank you for saying that crimsonflow. You show more interest in my words than my own family. Your comments are treasured by me, not just today but all the days I have left.
Hugs,
Sara
I feel cut open.
The starkness of your words also reminds me of a book written by a good blogfriend of mine. Her blogsite is here:
http://insearchofadam.blogspot.com/
You might find her book In Search Of Adam (I think it should be available through amazon in the US and is nothing like her blog of the same name) interesting for both the style, content and the way she uses her language.
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