Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2014
Her heart was warm
Knifed cuts bled shivering blood outside in
But her heart whispered screams warm.
Your fingertips warm, softly etched words in a language unknown
Confusion sat upon a throne and ordered darkness her heart a home
Yet her heart fought on, still warm.
Seasons blurred by in sunsets warm, her hands may have been cold
Her story silently untold as fury shook her hands
But her heart was always warm.
Coldness hid the light of a muddy warm
Tangled words told and mangled thoughts sliced skin
Morose shadows truth and her heart is still warm.
Forgiveness feels sunshine fall lightly on two worlds making it warm
Your fingertips no longer touch her heart
But sit quietly upon her fingertips, palm to palm
Her hands are warm.
Written by
     Brokewench, Jayanta and Terry Collett
Please log in to view and add comments on poems