I’ve buried myself under the dusty covers
Of so many half truths
That when the pages are ripped from my spine
All that I will have
Is a blank piece of paper
Among the wreckage of what was my identity
So when my tongue is held tight to my cheek
The tarnished silver of second place
Biting against the soft of my lip
And my form
Aching listelessly against a rotating sky
I will lie among the strewn papers
And watch the wind sweep me away
As the world circles the living corpse
Of a child refusing to die
In the meantime I watch
the cigarette between my fingers
Singeing the ink that has stained my nails
Waiting beside my closest friends
Until I can no longer taste the smoke
that lingered in my throat
And I’m realizing
that nothing has ever been more human
That missing the feeling of dying
on a sunny day
Next to the person you love
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Author:
Kinsey Peterson (
Offline) - Published: February 22nd, 2024 13:40
- Comment from author about the poem: It's been a long few weeks, please forgive my absence.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 9
Offline)
Comments2
I understand this poem very much, a good piece of work, thanks for the opportunity to read it
this is more than tinged with sadness and an ache nigh on impossible to adequately describe ..... but which you more than adequately convey .. I am indeed sadly impressed by your ink .. write on Kinsey ... Neville 🤍👍
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