Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Jan 2012 December
Kelly Lutz
Silent sighs pour into my coffee
Fingers tap a cigarette
Toes tap to a beating drum
One. Two. Three. Stop.
His eyes shift around the room
Sorting faces with forgotten names
This feels like home
But we all know it isn't
Twiddling thumbs and nervous laughs
Thoughts so random they hardly last
Violent scribbles on fragile paper
Secrets exchanged through rushing whispers
This feels like home
But we all know it isn't
Blank stares and feigned concern
Everyone searching: for truth
Everyone suffering: writers block
 Mar 2011 December
Kelly Lutz
 Mar 2011 December
Kelly Lutz
What is art?
Is it the shadows painted from the trees above?
Is it the way someone captures a photograph of the sun peaking over a building?
Is it a doodle of the neighbor's cat that your five year old cousin scribbled?
Is it the way words are placed together in a letter to an old friend?
Is it two lovers holding hands?
Is it the way he smiles when you say hello?
Is it the copper being stained green in the rain?
Is it the way she dances across the ballroom floor?
Is it the birthday cake your mother decorated for you?
Is it the freshly made snow angel outside your window?
Or is it simply...
Anything that grasps beauty?
 Jan 2011 December
Kelly Lutz
I will write to you
Every single day
Until someone breaks my fingers
Making me useless

If that happens
I will sing to you
Every single day
Until someone stuffs cotton in my mouth
Making me mute

But even then
I will look after you
Every single day
Until someone blackens my eyes
Making me blind

Even then
I will love you
Every single day
Until someone shoots me
Making me lifeless
 Jan 2011 December
Kelly Lutz
Forgetful little flower
Only learned to follow
But never to follow through
With the little things
Like her dreams
He loves me, he loves me not
Was all she could think about

— The End —