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January 25, 2014
I want to wear words
I am tired of fueling my eyes with
an ocean of poetry
thinking that what I hold in my eyes
is earth-shattering
but you don't see
"Suicide" would stretch across my chest
my chest
where perverts eye and think I
am something less than a person
my chest
where the turmoil of my soul is kept
in a stark red throbbing
where pain and joy begin and end
where you still linger
The paint is bleeding
and I tell myself it is the time to let go
a cold piercing moment in your eyes
and I know.
© Hilary R., Woodland Hills, CA
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