My joints ache.

My joints ache.

A Poem by Rory MacLure

My joints ache.
They are cold and still,
tired from lack of use.
My joints ache to hold you,
to enfold you into the
cracks between 
my bones.
Between my bones there is

space

where you would fit.

My joints ache.
Hunching, they are
crude in contrast,
rough
in comparison to your own.

They creak and groan
as they act out this dance,
almost forgotten steps slow
to form.

My joints 
ache.

© 2014 Rory MacLure


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Added on October 28, 2014
Last Updated on October 28, 2014

Author

Rory MacLure
Rory MacLure

Glasgow, scotland, United Kingdom



Writing
Red Red

A Poem by Rory MacLure





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