PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I live my life

like a sack of bones.

This is where you

will find me.

Dragged and jossled

by the pavement.

But I can not

conjure up the past.

It is where

you once found me

Frolicking in

the trees,

dipping in the

burning buildings,

when all my senses

seemed to freeze.

This is where

you once found me.

Even in

the ease of

silence and

the oily fronts

of leaves

I can not come

back home.

I try with

hardened hands,

but they are bored

with swaying

seasons.

I try to choose

the words

like how my

father chose

his spices,

but in the lake

lies my sentences,

and endings

that are weary.

They protest

all the lovers songs,

they trickle in the morning.

I want to

end this

tired poem,

but my cigarette

is still burning.

If I smoke

a little faster

my release

will be un

nerving.

Here I am.

This is where

you will find me.