Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
zac-cPoems
I find that when I'm covered in soap, my mind wonders the most. . . . . Racing down my face is a streak of blood, a betrayal of my body, it longs to feel air because it's jealous of my skin. . . . . He hands me a cigarette, a gesture of friendship which I respectfully decline because time can heal wounds, but it takes more than a few seconds of silence to rekindle a friendship. . . . . The wind clings the blood to my face a reminder of your betrayal and I wish it would go away but It can't, can it? . . . . And the soap washes the red off my face, down the drain shaping my aspirations of flying away.
0
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 10:10 AM UTC
A Betrayal, Soap, and a Plane Ticket
I find that when I'm covered in soap, my mind wonders the most. . . . . Racing down my face is a streak of blood, a betrayal of my body, it longs to feel air because it's jealous of my skin. . . . . He hands me a cigarette, a gesture of friendship which I respectfully decline because time can heal wounds, but it takes more than a few seconds of silence to rekindle a friendship. . . . . The wind clings the blood to my face a reminder of your betrayal and I wish it would go away but It can't, can it? . . . . And the soap washes the red off my face, down the drain shaping my aspirations of flying away.
4/2/13 A little scuff with an old pal
zac-c
Written by
zac-c
American
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 10:10 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem