You say "I don't remember."
but that's all I do.
Think back and hold on tight.
Hands in prayer or frantic;
gripping at your skin,
leaving tyre-track handprints
which tarnish your prestige.
And I know you can't bare
to look at me.
There's no time for second chances.
I filter the air with my hands.
Unravel people-
flocked together like sheep.
Attempt to group together
all of the warmth and joy,
and make it mean something.
Comments
Highhat | August 21, 2011 - 05:11
Hi Beeme- a dramatic poem with your usual dark twist . I enjoyed it.
Do you mean "prestige" ?
I especially like the line
" I filter the air with my hands.."
but really all the lines are so poignant
with such beautiful profundity
;)Pia
Beeme | August 21, 2011 - 09:19
Thanks Pia, for the life of me I couldn't remember the spelling of prestige. :) I'm glad you enjoyed.
Thanks for the cherry abctales.
Beeme xx
seashore | August 21, 2011 - 09:22
Great stuff - you really are on a roll, Beeme.
Beeme | August 21, 2011 - 10:37
aww thank you Seashore :-)
Beeme xx