Cargando...
es
English Español Français Italiano

She Writes

I count them, and remember

I list their names on my heart
Count them... ad nauseum, infinity.
They, who sew my shroud.
 
I list their names on my heart
They, who released it
They, who broke it.
 
I list their names on my heart
I list their deeds
Their darkness
Their light.
 
I list their names on my heart
Etching grooves.
Scars of former
Burning future.
 
I list their names on my heart
They, who sew my shroud.
 
I count them and I remember.
Ad nauseum, infinity.

1
Preferido o celebrado por...
Michael Yeazel
Otras obras de She Writes...
Stalemate

starlight sings silver catalyst for dreams the woosh of the window unit roars with smokey tang on my lips, I shi… shoulder to door pane, perceptions…
His and Hers

The touch that spans length and difference I feel the distance that he holds captive in heart and… one reach, one touch
Panic Attack

The metaphorical heart Burnt in frozen grasp As the stale air, travels, labored far from memories, moments of horror caught
 2
this moment sparkles

there is a chamber there is a heart we dream it we taste it ours, unconditionally
my heart has rooms that sigh

my heart has rooms that sigh filled with dust of disuse, of mis… Waking world
waning never was

the taste of purple inundation eatery fingers flowing in scratching clutch we hold
 1
smooth and same

his gloved hand reaching veiled indifference death of a stolen voice crushing, squeezing
mirror, mine

his exit, his entrance stars in solemn shades countdown in pink orbs we, burning out suns commencing solitude
we

for the beauty of the day we wept huddled mass one, singular in thought we
had i been a painter

base of an eggshell in a portrait of painting she is pure canvas had I been a painter she would direct turpentine
The skin around their eyes, a canyon

She saw them fishing poles in hand, walking fro… Fingers, gnarled, crippled with the passing of age. The skin around their eyes, a cany…
Always the cliche

and in that tear, everything broke every shard of pain, every loss the losses yet to come her voice, her heart caught
The F Word

fallible fallen features flawless foes feel, feel, feel formulated
with aching, dull shard

it is a numbing a piercing of the proverbial heart with aching, dull shard a cold depth swallowing lungs contract, fluid-filled
Simply a blank page

it was a blank page. Her hardened gaze caused no words to appear. No flourishing language to embellish the explanation.No distractions to explain the lack of written monologue. Not even...



Top