Rubbing the burnt
Nothing is clear but the dirt
Is keeping me away from thinking
About the past
But I wished you killed me first
Hiding the pan
The blood is running out of my hand
Now I see the gaps between us
Like these shining dots
Patience is a medallion
This morning,
The door knob fell on my toes
And I did not scream
I did but it wont wake you up
Anymore
Now I think,
To write down a poem
It would be well but all I know
You only get the images overall
Not anymore.
-JBE
