Dulcet Blues, and Reds

no desc.

I feel ashamed that

 I don't love pain more than I do

But in suffering all

 I can think about is you

Teasing my skin as you stitch my wounds

Now I can't help noticing

 That's not a needle in your hand

And as you start to cut me open

I begin to understand

Why some scream

But this is not my music

The chords to this pain are unknown to me.

Still I play it by ear.

All the souls come crawling from the ocean.

This is the sound of

The death that lives in silence.

This is the touching story of

The fallen god embracing a tornado.

This is the metaphor

In the mirror.

Author's Note

So sweet..

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I believe poem is not so sweet. The description was visual and painful.
"But this is not my music
The chords to this pain are unknown to me."
You are a amazing writer. Brought me in and held me to the last word. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote

[Justsimplyjulia]

oooh..... that was deep. Loved your imagery and word choice! You have an amazing way with words.
-Dragon