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May 17, 2010

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fingers crawl towards the idea
outstretched to an entity which could give
pleasure
but doesn't
wrists follow behind, open to reality's
swift slit
instead of a comforting grasp
ultimatley,
my ribcage extends
to its fullest potential
leaving ample room
for meandering hands
to travel towards my
heart and cradle
every palpitation
rejuvenating my pulse
from flailing on syncapation
now
living on the backbeat
I can relax in the
arms of
sweet palpable
possibilities.



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ErisRoseThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. said...
Jul. 30, 2011 at 9:58 am:
I love this poem, the words you used and how it flows! good job! check out my work if you get a chance:)
 
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