deepundergroundpoetry.com

blood and marrow

‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍My bones bloom flowers
without poetry
I no longer have the words
to show you my soul
or explain the way
I have fractured myself

My heart is like an erratic coffee stain
the black mark sinking so indelibly inside
I can't scrub the anxiety from
my consciousness

Coins fall from my hands
in reverse prosperity
that can never fill your cup
and never will
when I have more
than my own bones
to stay alive for

Loneliness is more
than just a word we hold hands with
when no one is watching
it's come to define
the hypersomnia in your feathered pillows
and the way I dream
every book I've ever read

I don't know who we are anymore
between the notes
in this discordant symphony
that demands our anguish be heard
while refusing to listen to the other
screaming their soul out onto the floor

My bones bloom flowers
like they're preparing for a funeral march in advance

There is no poetry here
just blind hands stretched out in pain
waiting for someone
to reach back

© Indie Adams 2019
Indie
Written by Indie (Miss Indie)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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