Thursday, September 29, 2011

She's got eyes like boarded up windows
A heart closed off to the street
Her hands have fallen:
curled and wasting against her skin lain along her lonely dress
She's too young to rise from hurt, to lift up strong from despair
But as darkness gives way to red light
Her life will be that youthfulness
Till a boy she loves boards up those eyes,
Then she'll wear that lonely dress,
her wasting skin growing rougher and more calloused with age

1 comment:

Old Ollie said...

I love these red gritty poems.

So glad you're cranky them out.