PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I like to starve myself

(of You, of me)

Even with the best before me,

the latter I’ll believe.

And as she waved goodbye

The red in my dying eyes,

Caused her to mumble this cold cry,

“You are not lost, you are beautiful. Goodbye.”



No wonder children wander away from home

(Even in your bed I feel alone.)



It’s finally falling into place,

But still slipping from my grasp.

And the girls (the girls!) spinning at their doors

Invite me to go in again and again I go in!

And as they spin around and around

Their dusty dresses, their old ballroom gowns

Let out a silent, familiar sigh,

“You’ve wasted your life.”

(That was the knife!)



My greatest fear: this isn’t love’s song.

(you’ll forget my name before too long.)