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Thorns (Free verse) by poetandknowit
Nothing is spoken.
The door is simply shut.
The television gasping for clarity
is switched off,
allowing the room to offer itself
to moonlight.
Breathing seems amplified,
air cold and indifferent and
all matter lay dead in
the shifting darkness.
We are equal in blackness.
Shadows separate across the bed
reaching for trousers and nightgown,
the clumsy religion of cowering to
cover what is not concealed.
I could say something,
that is my right but they
did not expect me so soon and there
are things they need to talk about.
So I open the door
take a last look at the
living room furniture,
the Titian imitation on the wall
and leave my house.
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
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Arithmetic Mean: 6.0333333
Weighted score: 6.032392
Overall Rank: 1237
Posted: August 14, 2002 9:30 AM PDT; Last modified: August 14, 2002 9:30 AM PDT
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