The convincing bruise on your arm
tells me everything I need to know,
but you won't give up convincing me
claiming a lampshade as the source
of your pain.
The pained look on your face
deprived of joy, of the sunshine
that fills the rest of the world
but somehow leaves you devoid.
The convincing bruise on your face
tells me I should have spoken sooner
that I should have done something, anything
to save you when I could,
when you weren't dead inside.
No comments:
Post a Comment