She lives next door in my head
In the apartment of my mind
she screams aloud at times. Dragon’s luck
my attention span’s A hairbreadth
shorter Than her temper.
She sleeps a stone’s throw
Away from my heart
In a rundown concrete house
Her eyelids are bolted
Shut. In compensate for
The broken doors, broken windows broken life.
She draws doodles
On the layers of dust
On the scarred surface
Of my heart
I bare my chest in
Consternation
Where goes that beautiful
Broken state of mind
|
Email this Poetry
|
Add to reading list






