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thirty seven

i await invitation

to unwrap these wounds

so carefully chosen

permission to remove

 

and my mind screams itself

to a foolish mouth

finding every door closed

and to watch them all fall

 

the vice itself holds no victory

it offers no souvenirs

watching clocks that never move

the hours have no sympathy

 

you'll watch the willow branch

it mocks you as you are

 

until we find no more

old uses for new faces

we'll cast this die between us

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d
Written by
dayna-casablancas
American
Published
Apr 14, 2010
Lines·Words
17·79
Permission

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