My feet are tired from this unyielding dance--
blistered and broken from the meaningless effort.
My mind is blurred from a swirling that does not bring joy--
this kind of amnesia is numbed from misuse of unimportant pink gauze.
To make things worse,
I caught a glimpse of unkind words
describing my profile
in the mirror.
I am stooped as all losses are,
always lacking the source of an arabesque,
and my soul is draped like a death cloth
over the arm of a disappointed angel.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment