"backscratchers" poems
I might be useful to you
There is a hair-tie on my right wrist
my socks are worn
Sometimes I like to listen.
You need your
bed made
bath drawn
tea hot
feet tickled pink like a
blanket you’re missing
me
Mar 12, 2011
Mar 12, 2011 at 2:06 PM UTC
kept to myself on silent hill
where grasshoppers used to frolic
eyes that spy don't realize
like-minds in wooden boxes
read their own would be actions
can't rationalize honesty
different strokes in choices projected
pandering in placating platitudes
never did learn how to turn polite
into untruths earning respect
through coddling flattery
backscratchers are unnecessary
when you don't count numbers
to feel worth a ****
broken beautiful even in cracked truth
taken as is wholeheartedly
but wholeheartedly never fit
into wooden boxes
where people polish egos
and truth reads like what you want to hear
unspoken expectations cultivate disappointment
caring is never pretty when it's real
honesty, with no lies, is hard to look at
in reflections of things one tries to bury
it's the beginning of trust that scrounges
for reasons to doubt
running into cradling arms
far from the unknown feeling of acceptance
where bones are broken beautiful
and scars are proof you won the battle
Dec 11, 2018
Dec 11, 2018 at 8:08 AM UTC