31

October 5, 2012

 

words floating

over my head

as I move

putting it together

over my head

feels better suited

nothing can be

written for long

erase a few

 

And she did

 

turn 31

today

Jesus…

till the end breaks

the hours bleed out

spent—alone

for hours

to suit

I can toast

burn in bed

 

I claim to

feel it so much

took to it

pressed down

on it

she knew

the rest

in-between breaths

I struggle for air

my poem-words

I hum along

to them

 

another night in the lonesome October.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s