9.1.09

Trite rhyme #2

I'm back in the arms of my open sore again
Alone and undone and remorseful again
Denied and unloved and remiss again
The blankets, the covers, the bed is unmade

3 comments:

xtx said...

geez girl...love that first line.

why is it we never make the bed despite all "again"?

Z said...

Stop picking at the open sore, and make the bed. It might not help your soul much, but at least it'll look tidier.

jereme said...

i really liked this