Moving Pictures
Last night in the deep dark
You put your hands on mine.
It was a dream...
Dream,
Dream,
Dream.
Thud.
I am awake, wholly alert,
And your hands...they’re gone.
I’ve awoken in a putrid house
Where everything is dead.
There are corpses lying about,
And blood is running in the gutters
Outside the filthy windows.
Life isn’t like the cool, cleansing
Touch of your hands; like magic
On my flesh.
The taste of vomit is in my
Throat, hot coals are lodged
Inside my blackened chest.
And my heart! My heart?
I haven’t one.
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.
