What am I

If not more alive than ever?
Dredged horizontally across filthy train tracks
And suddenly
I am staring up at them
Down at them
Into them.

I am looking into their tainted souls
Seeing the clockworks of their minds spinning
Endlessly,
Pointlessly.

But I am decorated with edges of violet velvet
And that
Is all that matters.

You said this wasn’t part of the plan and yet
You are cutting yourself into your own words,
Force-feeding them with false impressions
As you yourself
Have danced in my garden

Around the gashing flowers pouring
Blues and violets
Lies and betrayal
Me and you.

Now you are dangling by the threads of my words
Curling into the hollows of my promises
And clutching onto our beautiful little lie.

You would have liked to dance a little longer
But never mind that now

Because I am decorated with edges of violet velvet
And that is all that matters.

Reviews

[Emily B]

there is a power in a word. . . but you know that very well. . . this is powerful stuff, as pointed and chilling as anything that Edna St. Vincent Millay ever wrote

and I hope that you find that a compliment because that's the way I meant it

[Wunderlich]

Wow, this is amazing. Your word choice is excellent. This is a great poem. Good job! :D