PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

A call for a forcast

Is it gonna rain on me today

My windshield is cracked

Is it gonna leak through and stain

These photographs in my wallet

These still-frames of solitude

If that's what you want to call it



While the ink begins to bleed

I stop everything for that moment

Trying to remember why I smiled

And the colors seep through my clothes

On my skin, a tattoo of a bled out ending

The paper is blank, but I still hold its memory



Will it ever be erased

It's canvassed with permanent paint

Will my mind ever be clean again

Has this negative been tainted with

This is not how I remember it

Have I not put it to bed

With a paper weight to hold it down



I've pressed it between the pages of a book

This fiction is so hard to keep hidden



While the ink begins to bleed

I stop everything for that moment

Trying to remember why I smiled

And the colors seep through my clothes

On my skin, a tattoo of a bled out memory

The paper is blank, but I still know its ending



This cork board is now getting too crowded

And as the water runs in, the ink runs down

And the ink runs down

And the ink runs down

And the ink runs down

And the ink runs out



This carpet stain is now dependent

On some object to keep it hidden

Is this how you intended it to be



And the ink runs down

And the ink runs down

And the ink runs down

And the colors seep through my clothes

And on my skin, a tattoo of a bled out memory

And while the paper's blank, we all know the ending



And the ink runs out