Pick My BonesA Poem by Barbara Borel
The blood in my veins have turned to ice. Love frozen no breath of life.
Why doth thou shun me so. Leaving the birds to pick my bones as you finally go. The illusion was real or did you fool me? Stabbing daggers in my eyes so I could not see. The fact you could not love me, was it me or you? Please always know in my heart it was true. © 2016 Barbara Borel |
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Added on December 18, 2016 Last Updated on December 18, 2016 Author
Barbara BorelMetairie , LAAboutBorn and raised in New Orleans. Use words as a way of expressing myself. I dont write for an audience or to get praise or please anyone. Writing is therapy. In my eyes expressing words in paper... th.. more..Writing
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