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(lost names)
January 22, 2014
His soul is visible,
like glass or mirrors
etched into the creases of his face
He smells like winter and
the casual brush of a hand -
his eyes, however concrete grey
behind black frames of glass
hold a warmness just as with cold
hands he demonstrates a warm heart
He has lost his name,
abandoned it against his will
only to be called another
He makes even ugly death
seem beautiful
He watched me once
bleed the moon through my eyes
and then again,
and he asked me, with a sigh
that mirrored mine,
"Tired?"
© Christina G., Bedford, NH
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This article has 2 comments.
ImmortalRose GOLD said...
on Feb. 25 2014 at 8:10 pm
I love this piece... But who is it talking about?
70 articles 5 photos 195 comments
Favorite Quote:
“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.”<br /> <br /> ― Mary Oliver