Papers
Papers, papers that I never
thought I would have to sign.
Is that blood or ink drops
dripping on the dotted line?
Hair matted and stuck like
glue to a dirty head—
as I lay motionless, days
on end in my coffin like bed.
I never knew it was possible
to sob so hard you couldn't
catch your breath—
But now I know, living in this
agony— I would welcome death.
They say only Time will heal
all wounds, so I intently wait
for that elusive moment to come
that will soothingly seal my fate.
© 2012 Connie Marcum Wong
*This poem is dedicated to the
50% of you whose marriages didn't
succeed. I am happy to say I am
on the positive side this time.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment