At first it's pleasant, it washes me away.
It drowns all my doubts and sings me to sleep.
But it's cold finger tips run shivers down my spine.
Is not enough for my longing heart.
More. I want more.
The pencil is my only lover.
He listens to my silent words.
I really don't need any other.
The pencil tucks me in at night.
He is still without a name.
But he knows to leave on the night light.
Lies are my gun and taser.
It protects me from physical pain.
There is no better bodyguard from harm.
But it can't wrap warm arms around me.
He is as cold and fragile as myself.
All I have is whisky to drown myself asleep.
3 comments:
I love the imagery in this. Especially the raw emotion that is evoked into this piece.
You paint a picture with your words every time.
Lies do more harm then good when we wish we had told the truth later on.
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