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fatigued (poetry)
I tried to explain with words
echoing hollow in my ears
as I released them.
True tears
that evaporated in the desert between us...
while the words billowed with the empty wind
gained volume and weight
as they dove towards you
and when I blinked I saw them
crashing - crushing you beneath -
then my eyes opened
and I saw them stoop to perch on your wrist
You fed them
until they weren't figments anymore
caring sweetly and all the while thinking of me.
When they were fat and content
you sent them back smiling
glad to help me through these tides, times...
You turned and walked away
knowing now I could nurture them myself
since you had begun for me.
Much obliged I lifted my hand when they descended
felt talons pierce my skin
blood rising to my wrist, my cheeks,
infected, inflamed with fiery duty
and I should be able to reach my arms to the sky
feel the wings you've given me
and failing that I want to fall
feel the air rushing past me like flying
but I can only stand
and watch you, confident, leave.
This poem started as something and turned into something else, and I'm hoping that went halfway well, or at least not terribly. Metaphors are not generally my thing, and... well, leave a note, let me know.
echoing hollow in my ears
as I released them.
True tears
that evaporated in the desert between us...
while the words billowed with the empty wind
gained volume and weight
as they dove towards you
and when I blinked I saw them
crashing - crushing you beneath -
then my eyes opened
and I saw them stoop to perch on your wrist
You fed them
until they weren't figments anymore
caring sweetly and all the while thinking of me.
When they were fat and content
you sent them back smiling
glad to help me through these tides, times...
You turned and walked away
knowing now I could nurture them myself
since you had begun for me.
Much obliged I lifted my hand when they descended
felt talons pierce my skin
blood rising to my wrist, my cheeks,
infected, inflamed with fiery duty
and I should be able to reach my arms to the sky
feel the wings you've given me
and failing that I want to fall
feel the air rushing past me like flying
but I can only stand
and watch you, confident, leave.
This poem started as something and turned into something else, and I'm hoping that went halfway well, or at least not terribly. Metaphors are not generally my thing, and... well, leave a note, let me know.