Four Walls

There are new scars this morning.
All on the soles of your feet.
Hazy steps, shrouded in dream
Leave discomfort for the walking

Darkness stings your eyes like citrus
Premature expectation of light.
Open your window and cold breathe blows over your shoulders
Like a restful lover

Gloating in your loneliness

There are new scars this morning,
And the world has learnt to hate them.
The marks of beautiful healing
Blemishes blank canvas.

Experience screams at sound proof glass.
It’s easier this way
There are broken shells outside,
Broken shells and lost keys.

You; alone, gloating from inside.


Written late July 2010.

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