If These Walls Talked

There is no protection in isolation.

With a hand pressed against his heart,
he poured his morning on the floor.
It hit the tiles
and in condescending condensation
collected under his skin.

An eloquent epiphany cloaked
in the guise of an anvil.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

It hits silence; an introspection in progress. 
A cleansing.

A detoxification of corrupted electrons,
flushed out with a quivering hand
pressed against his heart.

The silence once again. 

Then a smile.

A smile to the afternoon solidifying under his feet.

For if these walls had talked,
they would've yelled
and drowned an innocent man.

-klbeaudry, 2010

Reviews

[PadfootBlack]

yeah, well. I better not even bother to ever write again, when there are people as talented as you out there. xD

Holy crap, dude. This is fantastic. It sounds... delicious, I guess is the right word, when spoken aloud. Some peices... just -taste- good. And this one is most certainly one of them. 100/100 without a doubt.

(oh and did you mean "morning" or "mourning"? Just wondering.)

[Lilly]

Amazing poetry. Powerful indeed. Fantastic work

[.]

"An eloquent epiphany cloaked
in the guise of an anvil.

Falling.
Falling.
Falling.

It hits silence; an introspection in progress.
A cleansing."

God!!!---very creative writing!!!
I love the "introspection" line--(the "cleaning")--very thought provoking...

"For if these walls had talked,
they would've yelled
and drowned an innocent man."

Wow..this is excellent-tight-strong piece of poetry...
...I Love It...

james:-)