My Thin Skin

Before heaven was created,

fear had a hiding place

in your eyes.

Before hell was born,

everyone had access to light.

Let the innocent rise,

let them prove that the local tramps

know which way to go.

Your shadow cuts tenderly

at my thin skin,

down to purple bone.

Don't pretend that the clouds

over your head are out of date.

Don't pretend the real sun

is shining.

I was looking for your heart

for a long time, finally someone

kindly pointed me to the side of the road.

Angels spread their

freshly washed wings,

God threatens with a finger.

Reviews

[Fabian G. Franklin]

The finger of God might be such as in the "Creation of Adam" by Michelangelo rather than the wretched judgement of an accuser. We all might be fearful of something that never comes to pass. You will find many who blame the light for shadows but the light does not create shadows; but rather the object blocking or absorbing the light. Those objects prevent the light from passing through. The earth turns away from the sun but the sun remains constant. Shall we then, blame the sun for the night? Thank you for the thought invoking poetry. From the rainy heights of the Appalachians, I wish you a wonderful day, F.

[M. J. Smith]

Solitude deeply cuts the soul. But unrequited love cuts deeper. Excellent work.

[Writergurl]

Don't pretend the real sun
is shining.
I was looking for your heart
for a long time, finally someone
kindly pointed me to the side of the road.

Love this part so much, I love the whole write, this is amazing

[Katarzyna Anna Koziorowska]

Thank you very much! Greetings.