Clock is ticking
(Time is evanescent)
These clumsy fingers of mine
are trying to express
my undying love to you
but I keep stumbling
on my dirty fingernails and calloused knuckles
-I give up
Do you want me to write
about pure silk and concave pillars?
How holy you think I am
No, (my love)
I am made of sharp edges
and bloody fangs
and deadly cliffs that leave you breathless
You should learn to fear me
-
Author:
xeina (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 5th, 2020 04:42
- Comment from author about the poem: On feeling different.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 15
Offline)
Comments2
Reality versus his perception. Nicely done.
Thanks!
Good write but if that love is there the sharp edges will be dulled through the power of love.
Thanks, Goldfinch. Or maybe the power of love will shine despite the sharp edges.
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