Wednesday, 23 February 2011
My chalk crumbled
as I was trying to sketch your face,
with your crimson lips and measured gaze.
Your soft peppermint eyes are laced with black
treacherous arrows, ancient and tipped with poison
you used them to stalk me, avid with your wordless glare.
It burns you know, as they hit my flesh, they sting and smart.
I know full well that when the bleeding wounds have healed,
new skin will grow, it will be thicker and less sensitive
it will be immune to the darts your eyes dispatch
when your mouth is pursed and silent.
Linked to The Poetry Pantry