deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Other Side of Love
I have seen his eyes,
for a thousand years
painting pictures,
of my broken heart
with ink, from his tears
They watch me,
from the edge,
of the cobalt water, where the tree grows
with rotten apples,
that hang.
I stand, plucking
dead Lillie's,
from a cracked mason jar,
surrounded by twisted
limbs
that lay naked,
and starving waiting,
for him to return.
My mind goes back,
to trash can memories
while thoughts crush
my bones, as I drink
their rubbish until I die.
for a thousand years
painting pictures,
of my broken heart
with ink, from his tears
They watch me,
from the edge,
of the cobalt water, where the tree grows
with rotten apples,
that hang.
I stand, plucking
dead Lillie's,
from a cracked mason jar,
surrounded by twisted
limbs
that lay naked,
and starving waiting,
for him to return.
My mind goes back,
to trash can memories
while thoughts crush
my bones, as I drink
their rubbish until I die.
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