Free
By Beeme
- 2980 reads
In the weakness of surrender the veins lecture
praying that its not too late.
Beneath my surface the oceans mourn and
break hard against my flesh.
Is it ink that spills and winds within my
blood? Integrated within my life.
Wasn't it you who goaded my response?
an army of letters assembling on my page,
pencil sharpened to a point- the white surrender
of paper being tarnished at the order of your ridicule.
And didn't I say that one day you'd be sorry.
The same way my poems huddled in the corner
of my bedroom, trying desperately not to disturb
long forgotten demons.
Until all that was left behind- a poetic cemetery.
My notebooks covered with the remnants of our
cherished memories, stained with the heartache you
thoughtfully left behind- as a rough draft.
Knowing that I would free your remorse at the tip of my pen.
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Comments
seems fine to me, but I'm
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'The same way my poems
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Sorry man I didn’t forget
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Beeme, your writing is often
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I completely agree with
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Yes me too. I’m very glad
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Ah and the end two parts are
"I will make sense with a few reads \^^/ "
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new Beeme Hello! I liked
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