Xviii


I am blind
Not the blackened eyes
Hollowed out with a spoon
The worse kind
Seeing each angle
In the street's shadows
And the hesitations
In the walls
Frantically searching
For something to feel
For whatever once
Enlightened me
But those mercies have died
And like the young teeth
Through which I've sadly lied
The light, the candle, the dripping wax
Solemnly blend into my oblivion

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem