pain

and she clutched the thorns along the stem of a red rose

S.

the bare bones

they're exposed when you come around

you conduct melodies against them

only to leave 

how do you supposed we would fair

if it was only you and I?

not much of a difference

the scent of your perfume

on an egyptian threaded pillow case

it leaves your flesh to be desired

but why bother

when it all seems to meaningless

...

at least to one of us

this is not a sonnet

or beautifully written poetry

more of an empty-minded thought process

echoing in the halls

of a man seeking to understand

why she doesn't seem to come around

today I'll cover up

be strong like how my father was

and it will be the last time
I pretend to know you.

...