unTiTled 01101
the blinders rest with ease—
seams seemingly gaunting;
haunting whispers crunch like teeth,
seekers left to guess
pestering what comes next
be a kiss that is gentle
or bent with tiles filing
finally laying—rather lying;
dying to look you
hook right between the eye
lend the heaven, tongues that speak.
though weepy,
deep and soundly they hide
behind masks clasping dearly
refraining to reclaim their faces
places they’ve felt love.
people they’ve once known—
sewn behind is their truth
and truthfully their pain is plain
written in bold
holding bruises
whether you choose to see it
or be it amiss.
wishing well feels like rope
we can feel it doping us
hoping that our next breath
is the last one to give less.
but living session after session
their weapons once sharp dulling
full hands weaken with tire
and wiry sighs leave the senses
why?
because we weren’t just prizes
disguised to heel blindly
or crawl without first running—
we are not sick and lowly farm animal
simple, dirty, managed to be manageable.
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.
