Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2014
One... two... three... four...
turn
You can see the spot on her floor,
Where her blue-green carpet is worn
Wishing she could walk out the door
Forget how bad her heart has been torn

One, two, three, four
turn
She has music blaring
Supposed to keep her from losing her mind
Supposed to keep her from caring
If only her tormentor weren't so kind

One two three four*
turn
He's still unaware of his slight
She's pacing, reciting Poe in her head
He's unaware of her pain every night
She's wishing her heart was dead

Onetwothreefour
turn
Her fingers twine through her hair
Berating herself for thinking of him
She hears a few strands tear
But paces on, ignoring them
My typical day I spend at least an hour or two (sometimes more) pacing and listening to music. Lately it's been more.
Lone Wolf
Written by
Lone Wolf
Please log in to view and add comments on poems