- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Scattered bones
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The scattered bones of her in me,
facial structure so familiar yet strange.
Do the eyes tell her story?
I think not for I'll never meet your eye,
that contact is but a shadow
that passes by then sinks to cover
and numb broken branches.
Jagged from the long fall unhealed
they break her skin, so cold
this skeleton shivers.
Twilight threatens a growing storm
the bones glow whitely,
washed and resurrected where they fell
just one more statistic.
She is me, perpetrators dead and gone
and no-one paid the price.
- COMMENTS
vrosej10about 14 years agoI love the first to lines of this poem. They could mean a number of things and got me thinking. I took it as a play on the idea of inherited features but I might be wrong.
