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sgholterPoems
Soft sounds of rain through The open window. Each drop Landing in wet grass is A hammer to our hearts. To feel alone is nothing new, But I see myself through satelite Images, afloat dead centering The ocean, Biting and clawing at the Ropes that hold my raft Together; too afraid of water Not to drown.   Silence like tanks rolling out Of a devastated war zone.   Let's wrap this up, and my Pulse escalates to an emergency Frequency open to recieve any Mayday or SOS, but my hands Are too numb to telegraph. Instead I find myself wiping Rain and sweat from my face With mud covered fingers in the Headlights of a parked car, Digging a grave The size of something dead that Holds secret things, like Love's True name, or God's, or Those of my Future children if ever they be, Or the hidden meanings behind a Brutally meaningless Break-up.
0
Aug 9, 2017
Aug 9, 2017 at 2:37 PM UTC
...of Rafts, and Rain in Headlights
Soft sounds of rain through The open window. Each drop Landing in wet grass is A hammer to our hearts. To feel alone is nothing new, But I see myself through satelite Images, afloat dead centering The ocean, Biting and clawing at the Ropes that hold my raft Together; too afraid of water Not to drown.   Silence like tanks rolling out Of a devastated war zone.   Let's wrap this up, and my Pulse escalates to an emergency Frequency open to recieve any Mayday or SOS, but my hands Are too numb to telegraph. Instead I find myself wiping Rain and sweat from my face With mud covered fingers in the Headlights of a parked car, Digging a grave The size of something dead that Holds secret things, like Love's True name, or God's, or Those of my Future children if ever they be, Or the hidden meanings behind a Brutally meaningless Break-up.
sgholter
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sgholter
Aug 9, 2017
Aug 9, 2017 at 2:37 PM UTC
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