If Wrists Could Speak
Fear
loathe
pity us Not
We scars
so judiciously brought into existence
by silent shreds
of emotion:
Jagged sighs,
wretched smiles,
come journey Dysfunction.
We beg your brave outsiders' senses
to peer
Are you
Perplexed by soft whispers
that emanate Clear
from each
line?
Does our breadth
of a slice
of depth
of vice
the stripping of seams
to bloodlines
within,
defy perfect dreams
of sweet nectar
skin?
Dare you touch these velvet ropes
muddied
from cold steel
hue
now dry
in caked puddles
of lost hopes,
once winding
thick
through?
Fear
loathe
pity us Not
We scars
so judiciously sought into existence
by silent shreds
of promise:
Sound larks
of empathy's
song,
Heed the marks
of our concern,
liquid and long...
We merely yearn
to be forgotten
in realms of healing
Hope
begotten.
Copyright © Michele Godleske | Year Posted 2006
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