How do you know...?



/ poetry

3/5/16 Life leaves its mark

The canvas stares at me

Daring me to paint truth upon its

hungry surface.

Open up, it taunts,

this is your "playground",

words are your toys...

come on, damn you!

Tell us, how you feel.


I walked under the water,

as it fell, hot, from above.

In an attempt to wash away

The memory of your imagined touch,

I scalded myself raw,

pale skin turning pink.

Many are the marks you left upon me,

so few of them visible.


Eat the pain,

just open up my heart 

and let it flow into me,

out of me, over me.

Pray for it to overwhelm my senses.

For it feels wrong to silently observe your passing,

and I am aching

to moan my soul out into the universe.


They will know that I know you

just by looking at me.

This knowledge I carry around,

heavy like grief,

buoyant as pride. 

It is all there to be seen,

for those sensitive and smart enough to look,

somewhere about the eyes...


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