PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

She speak like she could run but never far, never for to long.
Her youth is possibly harder then the tale he tells.
His skins thick like rubber to match her walls she puts between them.
He sits with the magpie trying to understand its illusion.

a bloody rock, stained walls speak in so many ways,
Broken windows, glass glittering in the new sun's rays.
A sickness burdens both pair of eyes or is it a gift?

When I learned of such passion burning,
An expression pure gravitated towards such shades of blue
I couldn't believe in something so beautiful and raw...
Yet there in front of me the magpie danced around the shards
ever so curiously...