I should write on sunset air
instead of grieving India ink tears
half-fingered shapes make nightshade grins
caught on the silver of my razor blade sins.
They say, the many ways
you can't leave until you go
bruised colored masks don't cover lies indigo
tattered kite tails make paper tigers
worn smooth promises that last forever.
I can't go back is tomorrow's news
certainty won't cast this spell over you
half-hearted promises are sure to die
blue tides sell your sand colored eyes.
Make-believe memories heal today's wounds
Almost always is what's sometimes true
Chevy Nova back seats
made of you.
3 comments:
How long has it been? I guess we never get over the things that hurt us the most, the scars that heal on the outside but never what's most tender inside, raw as hell, waiting to erupt, to force itself out into the open. Ever address it another way?
I want to like this one but honestly it hurts too much. When you lose the love of your life that person that knows you inside and out you cannot get close again. Maybe never.
You have so many closets for skeletons, don't you? Is that why close to you, sometime that means everything you will ever be in your life, you can't go around throwing poetry at it to make sense at it.
That's not you it's me. LOL. But can't seem to stay away (reading it for the second time this morning). I would say keep writing but I know they hurt. The selfish me and the needy me wants you to keep on hurting so you can keep on writing.Truthfully, no matter how painfuly.
I guess I want to say thanks and maybe this is as close as I can get to it. Keep coming back, tell me why, tell me to shut the hell up or just let me know you are there.
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