The stark truth is a poem


Chilled like a glass
my heart wanders into reflections
of moist heat
and shatters from too much, too soon.
Ah! the splinters come to lead a path of red ribbon woe
straight into my tired eyelids.

Wrinkled copies
of beloved words
that
have memorized themselves
into the fabric of my skin,
are making homes
in the tendrils of my hair.

Sparks of maddened genius
loop themselves over my shoulders
and wonder what I am reading
at 4 am.
Is it something to taunt,
or something to tender?

Lay down your pen and bleed.

Published by Bexley Benton. (Pen name)

I am B (call me BB and I will gut you) I like daisies, books, and men who understand the wisdom of Kermit the Frog.

2 thoughts on “The stark truth is a poem

  1. Thanks very much. Having someone read or even re-read my work and find it acceptable is always a fulfilling feeling.

    What I like best about this particular poem is that if a person reads it quickly they assume it is a sad poem or a pain-filled one, but this poem is in its end song about love, or at least the fearful beginnings of such.

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