*

*
Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Broken Glass

cigarettes and broken glass by viewfinder
I have learned to walk on broken glass
how to step lightly and quietly
I no longer cry out
when the pieces slice my feet
Shhh
Quiet now
I use the blood to paint
my nails a happy crimson for you
Watch me dance on
the shards
How useful are the scars
I can pirouette
as slivers burrow
into my toes
and I feel nothing.

submitted for dVerse Poets Pub, Open Link Night Week #52

19 comments:

Brian Miller said...

damn...that is hard...painful...the painting of my nails for you in the blood....ouch...dang....tough verse...

hey got your email as well...but been swamped...will send back thoughts...

Buddah Moskowitz said...

And that is how I became a writer. This was great and I will read it again.

Daydreamertoo said...

Oh yikes!~! Deep and emotionally as well as physically painful. Sheesh.
Awww... sad too.

hedgewitch said...

My kind of poem, LM--my dancing shoes are ripped to ribbons. I keep dancing, but the numb part can be scary. Painting the toenails is a very nice gruesome touch.

Gemma Wiseman said...

A glimpse of deep seated pain without a sentimental rush! Cleverly written!

Timoteo said...

Bloody good!

Timoteo said...

By the way, I LOVE your blog description: "Poems, Inspirations, Creative musings, and other Shit."

Tickles mah funny bone!

Quotes,Photos and a little Poetry said...

you have to build up a tough skin in life while being fashionable and graceful at the same time. your poem had truth to it.

ayala said...

Painful and beautiful...sometimes the pain makes us numb. Good capture.

Hey Monkey Butt said...

Wows! Love it!

metanoeticpoetics said...

This is so painful, but true. We are so willing to walk thru so much pain for those we love. You capture that desire and self-destruction so honestly, without false sentiment.

metanoeticpoetics said...

This is so painful, but true. We are so willing to walk thru so much pain for those we love. You capture that desire and self-destruction so honestly, without false sentiment.

Margaret said...

Wow. That is some emotional piece... or lack thereof, perhaps. Just dead to everything -

Kerry O'Connor said...

Oh, gad, but this poem has an icy grip on the substance of poisonous relationships:

I use the blood to paint
my nails a happy crimson for you..

Too many women bleed for love, for little reward.

Excellent.

darev2005 said...

YOW!!!

That made me feet curl up in sympathetic pain.

Even if it was allegory.

vivinfrance said...

Um: rather her than me. My feet are sensitive! But a well-crafted poem nonetheless.

Mama Zen said...

Wow.

kolembo said...

miss lola mouse! Tis what they invented the highheel for!
Good reading...and how have you been!

hyperCRYPTICal said...

Another wow from me - WOW!

Brilliant piece.

Anna :o]