I
feel myself
coming undone
at the side
barely there
just one more
pull
then
some stranger
stitches me together
again
leaving no scar you can see
i feel it
it scratches
i tug
now you can watch
as
it unravels
insides
slipping out
your
race against time
to protect
my seams
stained beyond porous
covers
it was only a thread
it was only a scratch
we will hide it well.
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Your writing reflects a heart so deep that I cannot help but love to read your poems. The last line clinches everything and it excites my thoughts and stirs my soul profoundly. Rare. Rare as a black diamond.
ReplyDeleteOnce again thank you for your kind words. The last line was another of those i added at the last moment (which is kinda obvious since it's the last line!) Often i find myself feeling there is more that needs to be said- that the poem is incomplete and i will return hours, days, even weeks later and find a line that fits.
ReplyDeleteIt is the mark of a probing, committed mind. I'm not surprised that it happens that way. Perfection of expression, precision, and impact, all of these mark your thoughts, your desire to speak something deep and meaningful. It all works out so perfectly. You write like I wish I could. It appeals so much to me. I think in that form often, but when it comes to writing it as poetry, I can't do this like you can. You are a natural.
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