Blog Archive

Sunday, April 5, 2009

Stuck

Pasta bubbles like
angry words slurred
across an empty bar;
the scars crippling
on the inside.

Moist steam
warms a pale face
revealing truths
like breath on
a cracking window pane.

The food will be cold
before it hits
those deaf walls,
words fumbling
between rocking sobs
composure saved only
for authorities visits.

3 comments:

findingmywingsinlife said...

Sarah-Paige,
Lovely poems you have here, I will have to come visit you more often. And thank you for all of your encouraging comments on M.IV, I truly appreciate them.

Every Photo Tells A Story said...

How beautiful but oh so sad, Sarah-Paige. These scars are the ones that take the longest to heal, if they ever do:

the scars crippling
on the inside.

ambersun said...

Hi again

Another lovely poem. It seems to be about some kind of prison - metaphorical or physical? Is that what you're getting at?

Thanks for your comments on my blog. I've left responses there.

Amber