It Is Only On The Doorstep Of Introspection That We Find Our True Selves

Sifting mindlessly through
the emotional wreckage of her heart,
the girl with the stark, haunted eyes,
turns her soul’s cannon loose,
from its desiccated mooring.

She fires volley
after volley
into the obsidian night sky,
the fear of betrayal
dancing like water
dropped from a great height.

In time the waking dream subsides,
her glasses come off as she rubs
her tired eyes, bound for
the dresser drawer, they make
a noise not dissimilar to the
clunk-clank of her neglected heart as it yanks
at the thick chains that
surround its murky crimson epicenter.

Advertisements

Any Words From Your Brain?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s