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Sorry: From the Shoulder On Which You Cry
March 30, 2013
He fell too deep for me to follow suit
(Some-days I drink in the cornflower blue of his irises and
To-day I can pick out the weary, tasteless dregs of a friend who isn’t there.)
It’s half a lie, but the point is moot
(I want to steal the worried red of his lips, heal the teary red of his eyes, feel the grain of pale skin like sand,
I want to soothe the mark of the one who stripped him bare)
The longing howl of the owl’s hoot
© Robyn R., Middleton, WI
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This article has 2 comments.
theatregirl PLATINUM said...
on Apr. 6 2013 at 9:54 pm
I really like this poem, and I can really relate. Keep writing,because, it is really really good.
It's hard, when someone you care very much about is going through rough times, and there is nothing you can do to help. Even just being there, patiently listening, feels useless; knowing that they're hurting is enough to upset everything.