Rot

The apple in the hand, pierced, smooth, strong
So much better than the rot in the mind,
The hopeless past of a hopeful girl wanting
Wanting to believe he could give her something
So much better, wanting to let her heart envelope the future
That all the questions would be answered, she would
Always have a home and place in his arms.
All of that became the rot.

The apple in the hand, pierced, smooth, strong
Is the first to cross the walls she built as any but a trespasser,
The fear of the chains imbedded by the other
Knowing that they are being ripped out, hoping
Hoping that the apple will over take the pain
It is over taking the pain and in warmth she finds
The beginning of salvation, and suddenly the words
The questions to be answered, and she, she knows
That he must know. He must know.
About the rot.

About the Rot.

She just can't say the words…

Reviews

[Lindsay.]

Oh wow... this was absolutely wonderful. I enjoyed reading this. It made me imagine a place that you didn't really show just made me think about, if that makes any sense. Well.. to put it more simply you have given me inspiration. Good job.