blood on her hands
waste at her feet
I wish you could see-
-if you could be
me
her beneath me and around me
her cry must be heard
across the street
no one came
no one saw anything
but I wish anyone but me could see
and die inside like me
and be curious to see
that two plain women
should meet: one sad
one obsolete
I slip and slip in my myriad mind
though wet red slowly runs...
she'd been rotting
while I sleep
with her body next to me
playing dolls
hide and seek
with a corpse that seeps
watercolor composed in red
while I sleep
with my body next to me
and I can't peek
two plain women- no none
but me
me the drained dead
me watching me.
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 1:18 AM UTC
blood on her hands
waste at her feet
I wish you could see-
-if you could be
me
her beneath me and around me
her cry must be heard
across the street
no one came
no one saw anything
but I wish anyone but me could see
and die inside like me
and be curious to see
that two plain women
should meet: one sad
one obsolete
I slip and slip in my myriad mind
though wet red slowly runs...
she'd been rotting
while I sleep
with her body next to me
playing dolls
hide and seek
with a corpse that seeps
watercolor composed in red
while I sleep
with my body next to me
and I can't peek
two plain women- no none
but me
me the drained dead
me watching me.
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