Frail
By Trilby Severn
Sun, 01 Sep 2013
- 414 reads
1 comments
Flimsy hands
grasp the edges
wondering if soot,
or perhaps, guilt
could fill these hapless indents.
That I have been so absent
of these days,
telling only etchings
of the insides of my eyelids.
Had I heard only the curled
tongue,
of my former endeavors.
murmuring tenuously,
"Troubled, troubled"
the knotted verb
curled in the noise bubble
hanging above my head,
After all,
there is only this character,
and this character,
inexcusably named
me-
has met acceptance-
to evade recovery
sighing nervously,
with the denial,
that this is somehow all okay.
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Comments
A big warm welcome to the
A big warm welcome to the site Trilby, well deserved cherries! I like the style and the structure of this and look forward to reading more of your work.
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