The pain radiates from the core
Though my body isn’t hurt.
Every muscle has become sore
Yet my lungs still breathe
In – Out – Fresh air, inert,
The wind has made a wreathe
Of flowers and cool, green, healthy leaves
Around my head
And a garland of thorns bundled into sheaves
That stings my throat
And my heart red.
I know my cheeks are pale
Don’t stare –
Not with those doleful eyes.
I look at the moon, and only she can see me
Blushing behind these cheerless lips
Hungry for love –
Pink and full of kisses
Before the sour poisons of the skies
Made them look so frail.
Far green irises and specks of brown
Are vital and alive behind the masks –
The sombre masks of thoughts
That painted on my face a frown
I cannot brush it off
And away –
Where the moon ate the dark waves of the sea
And left a trail of light for me.
My name is Sacha and I decided to start a blog as a follow-up to my best friend’s advice that I share my thoughts, poetry and art with the world. I blog at THE COLOUR OF POETRY