I feel somewhat ruined. My
ancient Mayan walls, stone and cold,
covered in ivy and hieroglyphics
that you could never hope
to understand. My fragile body that hides
it all, the arms and hands
that wrap and grip as if
to keep it closed.
There is a continent inside
of me, where things disappear and
I go there sometimes- it's why
I couldn't hear you.
Your words dropped right through
and I let them,
I let them.
I let them go.
I'm not sure what this is about, but I like it? My subconscious is probably laughing at me right now.
PS- I GET IT NOW. (much later...)
.
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 ♥
1 comment:
!!!!!
I love this!
I love your imagery and emotion.
This is so brilliant Gen.
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