My face is scarred,
by the tears I weep.
Red welts bleed in the most visceral manner.
The lines that surround my lips are carved deep;
the dusty crevices of happiness.
It is the eyes of a man who saw a beautiful creature & the price of it was infinite blindness.
Lost in the bilious darkness of himself.
But, it is all metaphorical.
No-one else can quite see it.
No mirror can possibly reflect.
I am decaying from the inside.
I am a mess,
a wondrous tangle of the torn ribbons of love.
I am dying.
Slowly but surely
in these suffocating waters.
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 5:18 AM UTC
My face is scarred,
by the tears I weep.
Red welts bleed in the most visceral manner.
The lines that surround my lips are carved deep;
the dusty crevices of happiness.
It is the eyes of a man who saw a beautiful creature & the price of it was infinite blindness.
Lost in the bilious darkness of himself.
But, it is all metaphorical.
No-one else can quite see it.
No mirror can possibly reflect.
I am decaying from the inside.
I am a mess,
a wondrous tangle of the torn ribbons of love.
I am dying.
Slowly but surely
in these suffocating waters.
Yes, this is just. rather a stark contrast to my other poems. ;)
Hope you enjoy it, nevertheless. x
