Acid
Could I ever measure,
the void across her face?
If so, what scales or units
would suffice ?
Would the shudder
of recognition be adequate ?
Or will the
incessant jibes of mirror
be enough ?
What about the depth
of the scar ?
Was it deep enough to
be the void in her identity ?
How about the
confusion of expressions ?
Was that smoke,
from the fires
burning in the void,
emanating from her eyes ?
Or was it the dim light
of a fading smile ?
How much love
could stitch that chasm,
or unstitch that moment
when liquid hate
had gnawed
her sinews of humanity,
to leave a void,
at the center of her being?
Comments
A very well written poem. Keep it up.
You have a very interesting name for your blog as well. Very catchy.