night

full of memories not of this time. full of experiences that never happened. my bed is too large for one.

eyes like sea-glass

you smashed me into pieces

and left me hanging

against the rocky shore

at low tide.

 

necklace chains threaten to strangle me.

 

a cold light arcs

across the ceiling,

painting the room a heartless

shade of gold, knowing

it's too late to be awake.

 

candle-smoke curls under my eyes.

 

trees thrash outside,

a dissonant instrument

torn by wind. the sun goes down

but the trees

are not free.

 

curtains for keeping the dark out.

 

the whispering pages

of a book abandoned

flap in the night

like a bird

with broken wings.

 

my bed is too large for one.

Reviews

[GlamGirl]

oooh! I really like it! Good job!

[Raymond]

I think a writer is someone who puts words together to make a story, but a poet is someone who puts words together in a way that creates something unexpected. This piece masters that definition. I was going to list my favorite line and then realized I liked them all. Excellent work.

[Lyzzy Redd]

Eerie. I like it. :)