abstract life

I write poems about the ones who walk out of my life.

My back is starting to bleed from where you laid your knife.

I lose sleep over the boy who broke my heart

My life can’t be read it’s an abstract work of art.

The canvas is littered with brush strokes of forgotten faces.

The pain starts to fade to black and grey

Leaving no room for embraces

I cry for moments I can never relive

My brain is naïve it convince me to forgive

I smile to hide the pain that time unravels.

My voice is a simple doddle it cannot win the battle.

The paper is cluttered with a sketch of last night.

The strokes of lead offer a description of life, in black and white.

I am a mystery in the dark

For my life is an abstract work of art. 

Reviews

[JC]

you're a complicated woman that burns and yearns for more and are acutely sensitive to life, taking to heart and learning from all the chaos that is life love and relationships....keep throwing that paint around and writing your words of truth.