Red

I'm not sure how to describe this. I wrote it in a fragile state of mind.

Hands are clasped tightly

fingers drenched in gold and silver.

I should have picked up on this quicker.

Hurry and roll the dice

keep this a secret don't scare the mice.

I've should have picked up on this quicker

shattered dreams only make me sicker.

I've let my cards fold.

Along with you and all your friends

I let myself sit and play pretend.

Now I'm sworn to red with incompetence.

This room is so cold

I swore we'd grow old.

My vocabulary was torn and told

my words were nothing of the sort.

I've been grasping for more to hold

fingers drenched in gold.

You've left me in this month alone

I've should have picked up on this quicker.

Feeling dead and much more sicker

Now I'm sworn to red with incompetence.

Reviews

[Everett DeValle]

I Love poems like this, where you feel the poet write their thoughts that once raced through their mind...your poem was emotive and expressed your thoughts well. Nicely done.