Such ill-luck has fated us this year,
more stubborn than cancer;
a bloom of betrayal
dark as an oil spill,
one in each of our backs
to match. The life I knew so well? ---
Gone now. All that I am was swept
away with the dumped leaves of autumn,
choked under snow after snow
fine white, drugged into hibernation.
The snow, long melted now,
but nothing is quite the same,
nobody is happy.
Senses made dull
with suffering, after
one beating too many,
snapped like laundry, I am hung.
Now, my lead-lidded eyes can no more
hold the world up any better than they
can drive the darkness out.
They drain to marble ---
hard, glittering. Lifeless.
YOU ARE READING
Landscapes of the Mind - Poems
Poetry❝ ... abyss without color or stars, black hole we know not of until we are confronted by it. ❞ Poems of life, love, and mental illness not-so-loosely based on experience. ❋ ❋ ❋ © Copyright 2015-2017, by April Nicole Jones.
