Truth is like blood underneath your fingernails

Of tired feet
And broken nails.
Of bloody wounds
And hearts, frail.

I danced upon
The strings of your heart
I left few strings untouched
She comes along
Touches just one…
Leaves all my work undone.

I make love to your memories
To your clothes that I refuse to wash clean
To the missing space between my fingers
To the lonely chat box on my screen.

Title. Fink. Looking too closely.

Advertisements

Penny for your thoughts?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s