06-01-2015, 06:06 PM
Closed lids
It darkens when you leave the room; in me,
and though the sun's light beams through latticed blind,
I feel a colder singularity,
that's limp and lays impotent in my mind.
The bottom sheet lays on the hardwood floor;
it holds the tears that no one saw me shed.
I sleep with one eye looking at the door.
and hope you'd knock but no, the door is dead.
It's hard to resurrect and shine like spring
when strings lay cut and all one's guilt ebbs out.
When one is lost and can no longer bring
a friendship to the fore, except in doubt.
It's then she knocks, unlocks to sidle in
and drag me back; her warmth destroys my sin.
It darkens when you leave the room; in me,
and though the sun's light beams through latticed blind,
I feel a colder singularity,
that's limp and lays impotent in my mind.
The bottom sheet lays on the hardwood floor;
it holds the tears that no one saw me shed.
I sleep with one eye looking at the door.
and hope you'd knock but no, the door is dead.
It's hard to resurrect and shine like spring
when strings lay cut and all one's guilt ebbs out.
When one is lost and can no longer bring
a friendship to the fore, except in doubt.
It's then she knocks, unlocks to sidle in
and drag me back; her warmth destroys my sin.