“Life; My flooding drizzle”
She cut through truth
like warm falling rain
into stale snow.
The sun was up
but the clouds covered
me so deep in yawns.
I could not see past
my cotton
sheets of grief.
So I stay in bed
and I turn my head.
And I turn my head.
And I turn my head.
I look at the clock
when the red blur
sounds off.
So I punch it hard
and I say out
loud, “no
more.”
I could not sleep
with the rain sliding down;
Snapping icicles
from all gutters
and abandoned nests.
My winter landscape;
Yes,
she sings no more.
She is not my bride.
She is not my wrong.
She is not my diamond
ring since she wore
those red shoes
under that gown.
And I turn my head.
And I turn my head.
Cotton clouds cover
me in a flooding
drizzle of misery.
written on 07/15/2011 by: Matt Kane