This has got to be one of My Write To Read’s best. A finest example of exemplary poetry (that’s a mouthful). It struck a few chords here, ripped some others there, and hit me where it counts. In the heart, that is. I guess I could have shortened this a little bit and just said: “Great poem! Check it out!” But, really, where’s the fun in that? Besides, I couldn’t rid you of my nonsensical rambling and not-so-funny, awkward humour, could I? At least I’m trying. And while I sit here and do that, you should go read that poem now. Don’t even finish reading what I’m writing. It’s definitely not worth your time. In fact, if I read this post on your blog, I’d ask for my money back.
Just sayin’.
Anyways, I’ve got a bed with my name it and a clock that is WAY too far ahead of me, so I’m ditching this blog (just for tonight, mind). I’ve got some ‘Zs’ to catch – for all the good that will do me – and you’ve got a poem to read.

My Write To Read

 

I took the letter you wrote me
Lit it on fire
And let the wind carry it
To the place
Where we shared
Whispered
Laughed
And lay
Between blades of grass
And blades
You used to cut
To rid yourself of the pain
You could never
Ever
Numb yourself of
When I placed my hands on your wounds
And on your heart
I tried to absorb your pain
But it wasn’t enough
For you to lose something
For me to gain

m.T

(Photo Credit: annstreetstudio.com)

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Categories: Life, Poetry, Writing | Leave a comment

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