Fingers Wishing to Feel
I wish I was like you
Sleeping dearly, nearly
Lost to time
Never waking up
I am not like you
The unraveling begun,
An open wound oozing puss,
Lost to heal
Clouds turning Grey
In the tides of time,
Washed up and baked in the sun,
i lay in the sands of misery,
Wondering what went astray,
As a silhouette of a being knell over me,
He Caresses my face sweetly with his hand,
He whispers to my arid body's frame,
As he unlocked his mouth to near mine,
This is a poem written by Cynthia, my friend and lover.
Cynthia, lost her mother Georgeanne and sister Robin last year.
As I sit, I consume all my guilt in this bottle of numbing alcohol. As, others sit drinking, smoking and talking among themselves. Your...