PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Fell to meet an outstretched hand

Reluctantly take it, look into deep brown eyes

Shirt is torn, brown, no recognizable brand

I smile, and blush, but he only sighs



I read his life, in that moment we met

A life of drugs, sex, alchohol and lies

His arms were red were the scars hadn't set

The stains on his cheeks tell how often he cries



His face wore an expression I'd never forget

Sadness and longing, mixed with a smile

He had a pained soul, and a creative outlet

"My name is Mark, I see you around once in a while"



We'd end up together and I had fate to blame

So I reclaimed my hand and told him my name