I am always surprised to see her scars,
Thick parallel lines on her back.
Her body is so small in comparison,
And sometimes I feel the urge
To simply let go
and hold her close.
Because no matter how hard she tries,
Her back will never bend
Again,
Thick metal rods restricting the flow
Of what I know
To be something more than a still life.
For one of my good friends.
I like writing poetry. Not all of it is going to be a historical epic or an ode to something. These are like little glimpses of the subway in my mind; my train of thought isn't always artsy or symbolic or deep or meaningful, but I like to think that art takes ordinary things and makes people see a sort of beauty in them. So, look around- I've been doing this for a while. Enjoy ♥
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