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HR B
Poems
Nov 2011
perhaps, now.
there is a silent boom
that paves through the bones which I call “mine”
the vision I use, blurs
and the heart sputters
I think that maybe
it will not start again
that maybe this is it
that the blood will finally slow
and stop
that the skin that holds me in will cool
and harden
that the eyes I see out of will glaze over
but not leak
that I will exit
only to enter
somewhere new.
ⓒ wordswithmypulse
Written by
HR B
29/F
(29/F)
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Shashank Virkud
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