Marrow

 

You were caught in me

like a fish on a hook.

I tore you away,

threw you back to your world,

wounded to the insides of my bones.

 

In anguish we part,

my companion and I,

and stationed here upon this hill

we watch our tangled knot untie,

withdraw, resign, be still.

 

The absence of the muse

is the artist’s darkest hour.

I wish my tears were rose petals,

but they are not made of any flower.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

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