PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Dipped her hand in
It broke her perfection
The ripples began and distorted her image
And her tears gave birth to a puddle on the bank
They quenched the thirst of the dry dirt
and she drew lines in it with her finger
She carved a name
And you could tell she was seething
Her veins choked on every syllable
and you could tell she had reasons
The light hit the water, but it didn't matter
She scratched out a name
The light touched her face, but she wasn't flattered
Her blue was still bleeding but her red had
stopped beating a long time ago
and you could tell
you could tell she had reasons