Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2011
Loneliness

Made himself comfortable in my heart

He took up a chair

Set it backwards

And swung a leg over

With an inaudible sigh



Sat on down

Settled in,

Right beside

The torn edges

And split seams



Started

Picking

Tearing

Scratching off

Strips

Of my damage

Of my out of control.



He smokes and smolders

Like a haystack

Silently igniting



Turns pebbles into boulders

That sink me

Deeper

Tighter

Slighter

Into myself

Until my chest

Explodes

And strips of loss

Scatter at my bare feet



Him,

The lonely man

With the loud voice

And vacant

Laugh.

He can fill a room

With his technicolour coats and masks

And fade the brightest star

With his undying pallor

That is sewn just beneath his skin.



He is the crafty artful dodger

Of bullets to the heart

Ducks and weaves

And falls away

Down the dark

Alley ways

Of this damaged

urbanized

Over developed

Being.



Lonley man.

Pulled up a chair

And made himself at home

In my heart.
Written by
Jacqe Booth
587
   ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems