comotose, she watches him
flipping the cigarette,
sharp as a knife.
he knows.
he wasn't perfect
hell, he wasn't even okay
so why did she need him?
he turns.
it was a mistake
she is mute - dumb and silent,
unable to summon the words.
closer now.
ten more steps,
she notes idly,
watching his hands.
his hands.
she always loved his hands;
it was a running joke (- may -)
and yet - she really did.
her neck.
she didn't bother fighting,
it wasn't worth the effort.
maybe just one more time...
it's dark.
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Comments
And it's terrifying when things go bad...
This is beautiful, I love it.
Just what I needed to read today.
Thank you.
--
Mind over matter, if u dun mind it doesnt matter
I really love how you structured this poem. You seperated the changes in the scene from the backstory. It's almost like you merged two poems. It feels like a series of flashback scenes.
I really like it. Vivid.
Merlin
--
When I tell any truth it is not for the sake of convincing those who do not know it, but defending those who do.
-Wiliam Blake
Every prophet is a cannibal, Every poet is a thief
all who kill their inspiration and lie about their grief
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