Like a cutting knife, words can pierce the skin
they go back and forth in your mind
Oh, gloom and vengeance whisper within
urging blood to pour out of your veins
like negligence words can pierce the skin
Autumn, a flurry of browns, oranges and reds
a source for when idle and dark hours begin
Oh soft, unwilling flesh and deepening moans           
with lips writhed into contumelious grin
and contempt searing in a gaze beneath mine
Like a bullet, words can pierce the skin

 

Photo credits: Self-Portrait – El Lissitzky

Form: The Fold

Posted for “Poems in April” @ Real Toads

Posted on Poetry Pantry @ Poets United