(after a painting by Milton Avery)
Slouching alone and sour.
Your bow tie cannot find a flower -
Or else it would flutter away,
A skittish magenta form fleeing the lifelessness of you.
Your only friend is darkness, although
I am here,
To see your face a pallid lime,
Touched with wisps of silver.
Only your eyes are still pools
In the shadow of a stoneface,
Dulled by the sighing blue which
Has enveloped your soul.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
Post a Comment
Be the first to comment on this article!