Blur
The shards of my life never
cut so deep, as when you're
holding them
An addict in disguise,
I beg to go deeper
Crimson rivers can't
bring yesterday's tears
Dull throbbing of a
sanguine rush invades
my erratic tranquility
Suddenly I recognize
the carvings of a familiar artist
and the hand that is mine..
hard at work.
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
