deepundergroundpoetry.com
white picket fence
I can see you in the mirror
past my own reflection
staring back at me silently
from so far away
we’re just ghosts here
whispers of tomorrows
that we’ll never get to see
you’re the fence paling
I fell on drunkenly in the dark
and have never had the courage
to remove
from my shattered rib cage
and sometimes I wonder
why I carry your memory with me
when all it does is twist the edges of wood
that have embedded themselves in my heart
© Indie Adams 2012
past my own reflection
staring back at me silently
from so far away
we’re just ghosts here
whispers of tomorrows
that we’ll never get to see
you’re the fence paling
I fell on drunkenly in the dark
and have never had the courage
to remove
from my shattered rib cage
and sometimes I wonder
why I carry your memory with me
when all it does is twist the edges of wood
that have embedded themselves in my heart
© Indie Adams 2012
Published 10th Sep 2012
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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10th Sep 2012 2:29pm
Emotional hemorrhaging pumps the life force out of us, and that wheezing is still a form of breathing, yes....Bud Court playing banjo overlooking his wrecked hearse jaguar plays its own melody...and a resurrection....I've been walking away for a thousand lifetimes....you make me think too early...
10th Sep 2012 5:47pm
Really liked the imagery and how you used that fence.
The tone and voice reminded me a bit like in my writing sometimes, which kind of scared me. :)
Lovely imagery glossed with a thick lost paint.
The tone and voice reminded me a bit like in my writing sometimes, which kind of scared me. :)
Lovely imagery glossed with a thick lost paint.
