THICK, BROWN POEMS #8

DEAD SKIN

My back is broken.

Same as my heart.

Sleeping on the rocks,

under a sky without stars.

Walking alone,

under a new moon.

Forlorn.

Cold company,

as we both cheat-

the dawn.

I wear your reflection

in my mind.

So at least remember

my name.

Soon my watch will stop.

The time will not come.

Until then,

can i find comfort,

in your strings,

your fingers,

and forked tongue?

You are fit for a king,

who’ll spit bitter truth,

in your face.

And if you forget,

what it was you gave me…

Sleep on rocks,

and bleed,

just to taste.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s