-
Scratches torment my back
as if the sun was digging her fingernails
through the wounds,
forcing pleas to be wiped away
(like a broken cobweb
clinging to the corner of a window)
from the severed cells.
You loved when the glass was hit
by some gilded lance of autumnal dusk;
but then as the colours shattered
to scatter the walls with screams
of sharp edged glimmers
that turned the bare plaster to
some magnificent monument for
some magnificent monument for you,
some magnificent monument for you, I could see why.
The cracking reds and kaleidoscope blues,
eventually dull and merge,
painting bruises to hang as if framed
until the canvas fades to some ugly brown
and your work of art is hidden under a dirty sheet
in an arid attic that fills the lungs with
stale soiled dust;
but the sting’s still there.
![](https://graphics.gaiaonline.com/images/arena-images/ic_paper_corner_32x32.gif)
- Title: Can You Pass the Salt?
- Artist: Adimurti
-
Description:
Another older poem.
[[Please comment if you rate, just to say what you think! I'm always looking for feedback, positive or otherwise!]] - Date: 08/21/2011
- Tags: pass salt
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